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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT  LOS  ANGELES 


GIFT   OF 
FELIX   PLUG-EL 


tales  of  Cangucdoc 


Stanford  edition 

Limited  to  one  hundred  and  fifty  copies 
No 


71 


FELIX   FLUOKL 


of  £an$ucdoc 

Samuel  *JdC(fue$*Brun 


lOith  an  Introduction    bp 

ffarrict«lO*  Preston 
lHu$trdtion$-bp-€rnc$t:Cfeixono 


COPYRIGHT 

WILLIAM   DOXET 

1896 


TS 


DEDICATION: 

TO 
THE   MEMORY   OF 

THE  STORT-  TELLERS 


177241 


Pref; 


ace 


"THE  "TALES  OF  LANGUEDOC"  are  drawn  from  a  fund 
*  of  stories,  sayings,  and  traditions,  which  came  to  me 
by  birthright,  along  with  the  ancient  Bible,  the  tall  clock, 
and  other  heirlooms,  carrying  with  them  about  the  same 
sense  of  exclusive  ownership.  Whatever  may  have 
been  their  origin  in  common  folk-lore,  they  formed  an 
important  part  of  the  conviviality  of  the  ancestral 
hearth  from  an  early  date,  and  for  several  generations 
have  taken  on  the  personality  of  the  different  narrators; 
so  that,  in  their  present  form,  I  have  come  to  regard 
them  as  my  heritage  of  the  unwritten  literature  of  my 
native  land  —  a  heritage  that  has  brought  with  it  a 
responsibility  in  view  of  succession;  for,  to  survive  in 
a  new  world  and  with  a  new  generation,  oral  traditions 
must  take  on  a  permanent  form,  verbal  narration  must 
be  written,  and  the  vernacular  find  an  equivalent  in  the 
colloquial  expressions  of  another  language.  To  attempt 
so  difficult  a  thing  with  only  my  own  resources  would 
be  presumptuous.  Besides  the  indelible  impressions  of 
a  youth  passed  with  a  race  of  story-tellers,  I  have  fortu 
nately  been  able  to  command  help  of  a  more  tangible 
nature,  without  which  the  collection  would  not  be 
complete. 


2  Preface 

The  sole  survivor  of  the  story-tellers  has,  with  much 
labor,  furnished  me  with  his  own  manuscripts,  deline 
ating  the  tales  in  the  vernacular,  and  supplying  the 
connecting  links. 

With  this  material  I  have  worked  to  combine  and 
embody,  as  in  a  composite  picture,  the  caste  and  coloring 
given  by  the  different  narrators,  calling  to  aid  an  able 
artist,  Mr.  Ernest  Peixotto,  to  supply  in  a  measure  the 
loss  of  scenery  and  associations,  and  the  acting  that  went 
so  far  to  supplement  the  original  version. 

The  difficulty  of  rendering  the  coarse  picturesqueness 
of  a  language  so  rich  in  metaphor  and  so  free  in  its 
range  of  figurative  expressions  could  only  be  partially 
met  by  the  use  of  slang  and  vulgarisms,  which  it  is 
hoped  will  be  considered  pardonable.  The  rhymes  and 
quatrains,  with  the  sonorous  ring  of  the  vernacular, 
which  sets  itself  to  meter  so  easily,  can  have  no  equiva 
lent  in  English. 

My  aim  in  working  out  this  English  version  has  been 
to  give  the  spirit  of  the  Languedoc,  and  to  do  justice  to 
the  original,  rather  than  to  reach  any  standard  of  scien 
tific  or  literary  value. 

Soulless  as  the  tales  must  seem  to  those  initiated  in 
the  magic  of  story-telling,  yet  practice  proves  them  capa 
ble  of  exerting  a  spell  over  the  children  and  having 
some  interest  for  lovers  of  folk-lore  —  so  much  so,  that 
the  author  is  encouraged  to  invite  to  the  hearth  a  wider 
circle. 


Preface  3 

To  the  critic  the  collection  will  appear  full  of  anach 
ronisms  and  inconsistencies.  Legend  and  romance  are 
unduly  seasoned  with  the  moral  and  didactic  to  the 
taste  of  a  sterner  sect  of  Huguenots ;  the  medieval  and 
modern  are  brought  face  to  face;  and  fact  and  fable  join 
hands,  regardless  of  rhyme  or  reason.  Yet  all  this  only 
rendered  them  real  to  those  of  the  ancestral  hearth,  who 
knew  no  sharp  lines  between  the  past  and  present,  and 
who  lived  on  the  borderland  of  the  fabulous. 

To  my  own  fireside  I  owe,  in  some  measure,  the 
inspiration  which  may  be  found  in  these  tales ;  and  to 
my  wife,  with  whom  I  discussed  the  idioms  of  the  langue 
d'oc,  the  apt  rendering  of  the  vernacular. 

With  gratefulness  I  acknowledge  the  deep  obligation 
I  owe  to  my  uncle,  M.  Clement  Brun,  of  Fontanes,  France, 
for  furnishing  me  with  his  written  version  of  most  of 
these  tales,  as  he  had  them  from  the  lips  of  my  great 
grandfather  at  the  beginning  of  the  second  quarter  of 
this  century,  and  for  the  suggestion  to  make  of  the 
stories  a  connected  whole. 

My  acknowledgments  are  also  due  to  Dr.  Ewald 
Fliigel,  Professors  Melville  Best  Anderson,  and  Henry 
Burrowes  Lathrop,  of  Stanford  University,  for  the  great 
interest  they  have  taken  in  these  tales,  and  the  encour 
agement  given  to  this  undertaking. 

SAMUEL  JACQUES  BRUN. 

Leland  Stanford  Jr.  University,  September  1st,  1896. 


Contents 


PAGE 

MY  GRANDFATHEB'S  TOUR  OF  FRANCE            15 

HOW   YOUNG  ANGLAS   BECAME  A  MARQUIS,  OR  THE  STORY  OF 

THE  DUCKS,  THE  ANTS,  AND  THE  FLIES         ....  23 

THE  CHINA-VENDER  OF  QUISSAC 56 

THE  ADVENTURES  OF  MESTE  REGE            62 

THE   STORY  OF   THE   THREE   STRONG  MEN:   CROWBAR,  HOOK- 
BEARD,  AND  THE  MILLER 71 

THE  HAUTBOY  PLAYER  OF  VENTABREN            123 

CYPEYRE  OF  ST.  CLEMENT  AND  LOU  DOUNA  OF  LECQUES    .       .  133 

A  BLIND  MAN'S  STORY  OF  THE  MIRACULOUS  TREE             .       .  143 

THE  iMARRIAGE  OF   MONSIEUR  ARCANVEL;  OR  THE  STORY  OF 

THE  GLOVES  OF  LOUSE-SKIN  199 


1. 
2. 
3. 
4. 

5. 

6. 

7. 
8. 

9. 
10. 

11. 

12. 

13. 
14. 


Frontispiece 

Title-page 

Head-piece 


"LISTENING  TO  THE   STORIES  OF  OUR   WHITE-HAIRED 

GRANDFATHER"  .........  19 

"THE  SUPERB  ANIMAL  HELD  HIS  HEAD  PROUDLY  HIGH  "  29 

ANGLAS  ARRIVING  AT  THE  INN       ......  33 

"  TAP,  TAP,  TAP,  AT  THE  WINDOW-PANE  "    .  38 

"  ON  THE  WATERS  OF  THE  STREAM,  ARRANGED  IN  BAT 

TALIONS,  THOUSANDS  OF  DUCKS  "  .....  41 

"THEY  MADE  HIM  WIND  THROUGH  CORRIDORS"       .       .  47 

Tail-piece         ...........  54 

THE  MARKET-PLACE  OF  QUISSAC      ......  59 

"MEANWHILE  THE  EAGLE  WAS  SOARING  HIGHER"        .  65 

"  WHICH  ROAD  GOES  TO  LECQUES?"      .....  77 

"  WITH  A  JKRK,  HOOKBEARD  SENT  HIM  FLYING  OVER  THE 

STREAM  "           ..........  79 

83 


15.    "CHILDREN  FOLLOWED  THEM  THROUGH  THE  STREETS" 


List  of  Drawings 


PAGE 

16.  CROWBAR  AND  THE  DEVIL,       ' 99 

17.  "FAR  IN  THE  PARK,  HE  COULD  SEE  A  LORDLY  CASTLE"  109 

18.  "BOTH  WORKED  WITH  A  WILL,  HOISTING  THE  BOXES"  115 

19.  .  "  UNCLE,  SEE  THAT  BIG  DOG  BEHIND  US  "   .        .        .        .  127 

20.  "  HE  PASSED  A  TROOP  OF  DIRTY  GYPSIES  "         .       .       .  137 

21.  "SHEPHERDS  LED  THEIR  FLOCKS  UNDER  THIS  TREE"    .  147 

22.  "  LET  US  COUNT  OUR  MONEY  " 151 

23.  "  THEY~GREETED  EACH  OTHER  AS  THEY  CAME  "       .        .  1161 

24.  "A    STREAM    OF    PEOPLE   WERE    POURING    INTO    THE 

CHURCH  " 173 

25.  "GOING    STRAIGHT   TO   THE   OLD   CHERRY-TREE,  GAVE 

&&&    K?f  ORDERS  TO  DIG  IT  UP  " 177 

26.  "  HE  FELT  HER  PULSE  AND  FOUND  NONE  "...  181 

27.  "LOUISET  WENT  TO  THE  GATE" 187 

28.  "  GIRLS  WERE  COMING  AND  GOING  " 195 

29.  "WITH  THE  STORM  RAGING  ABOUT  HIM"    ....  205 

30.  "  THE  POOR  MISS  LIFTED  HER  HAND  FOR  THE  BEGGAR  "  219 

31.  "WHAT  is  YOUR  MASTER'S  NAME?" 225 

32.  "  YONDER  is  MR.  ARCANVEL'S  CASTLE  "         ....  229 

33.  "  THE   COCK   CREW,   AND  THE   STORY   ENDED  "...  240 


Introduction 

IT  is  very  nearly  forty  years  since  the  first  publication, 
at  Avignon,  of  Frederick  Mistral's  "  Mireio  "  marked 
the  brilliant  opening  of  one  of  the  most  noteworthy 
literary  movements  of  this  century.  A  new  poet  of 
unmistakable  genius,  producing  at  the  first  bound  a 
work  of  epic  proportions,  with  a  theme  of  singular 
freshness,  and  in  a  hitherto  neglected  Latin  dialect, — it 
will  be  long  before  the  reading  world  receives  another 
such  sensation!  And  the  wonder  grew,  as  it  became 
apparent  that  the  new  singer  was  only  one,  although  the 
leader,  of  a  tuneful  choir,  with  a  common  inspiration, 
a  close  organization,  and  a  distinct  and  serious  literary 
purpose.  If  that  purpose  has  been  but  imperfectly  ful 
filled,  in  so  far  as  it  regarded  the  claim  of  the  rustic 
modern  Proven9al  to  rank  as  a  separate  and  long-de 
scended  language,  in  other  respects  the  daring  promise 
of  the  first  "  felibre  "  has  been  richly  kept.  They  had 
actually  struck  a  vein  hitherto  unworked  in  letters,  and 
the  mine  of  poetic  and  picturesque  material  to  which 
it  led,  has  been  yielding  steadily  for  a  generation,  and 
shows  no  signs  as  yet  of  failure.  The  men  of  the  early 
school,  many  of  whom  have  already  passed  away,  were 
born  and  bred  in  the  romantic  period,  and  idealized 


io  Introduction 

upon  principle  their  pictures  of  Provencal  life  and 
scenery. 

Then  caine  Alphonse  Daudet,  the  most  sane  and 
sympathetic  of  realists,  no  less  a  patriot  in  the  best  sense 
of  the  term,  because  he  was  also  a  citizen  of  the  world, 
who  dared,  in  "Les  Lettres  de  Mon  Moulin,"  and  the 
immortal  "  Numa  Roumestan,"  to  depict  the  humor  and 
confess  the  limitations,  as  well  as  chant  the  glories,  of 
the  South  of  France. 

Between  them,  they  have  succeeded  in  making  their 
fascinating  country  a  familiar  haunt  of  the  fancy,  even 
to  those  who  have  never  seen  it;  and  we  know  the  men 
and  women  of  Gard  and  Var,  Vaucluse  and  the  Bouches 
du  Rhone  as  we  know  our  next  of  kin.  We  have  roamed 
their  fields  and  gathered  their  fruit,  eaten  at  their  tables, 
knelt  in  their  churches,  and  shouted  at  their  banquets. 
We  have  a  lively  interest  in  all  their  concerns,  from  the 
gravest  to  the  most  trivial,  and  have  come  long  since  to 
care  less  for  the  manner  of  their  native  speech  than  for 
the  substance  of  the  news  which  they  have  to  give  us  of 
themselves.  We  are  only  too  glad,  therefore,  to  have 
the  part  played  by  the  humble  kindred  of  Mirabeau  in 
the  great  Revolution,  illustrated  by  Madame  Janvier's 
graceful  translation  of  Felix  Gras's  "  Reds  of  the  Midi," 
and  to  make  acquaintance  with  the  fireside  tales  and 
local  traditions  on  which  the  children  of  Gard  are 
brought  up,  in  the  singularly  clear,  animated,  and  idio 
matic  English  of  M.  Samuel  Jacques  Brun. 


Introduction  1 1 

It  was  a  happy  thought  of  Mr.  Brun's  to  give  a  per 
manent  form  to  the  half-dozen  extravagant  but  highly 
entertaining  viva  voce  naratives  which  had  constituted  for 
generations  a  sort  of  heirloom  in  his  own  family ;  and 
their  publication  seems  peculiarly  opportune  just  now, 
when  the  taste  for  story-telling  pure  and  simple,  without 
any  oblique  purpose  or  appended  moral,  has  so  remark 
ably  revived.  No  such  feast  for  the  juvenile  imagina 
tion  has  been  provided  since  the  Brothers  Grimm 
collected  the  "  Marchen  "  of  Germany;  and  the  scientific 
student  of  folk-lore  may  welcome  the  opportunity  now 
offered  him  of  comparing  the  nursery  legends  of  North 
ern  and  Southern  Europe  from  his  own  serious  point  of 
view.  But  the  great  merit  and  charm  for  the  general 
reader,  in  these  ingenuous  "  Contes  Bleus  "  of  Langue- 
doc  will  be  found  in  their  broad  and  beaming  humor 
and  their  intensely  dramatic  quality.  Even  the  tales  of 
Hans  Christian  Andersen,  and  the  marvelous  "Jungle 
Book"  appear  slow,  subtle,  and  tortuous  beside  the 
breathless  movement  and  almost  brutal  directness  of 
these.  Character,  as  in  the  delightful  fable  of  the  "  Three 
Strong  Men,"  is  drawn  in  true  child-fashion,  with  the 
fewest  and  blackest  lines;  but  the  effect  is  immense. 
There  is  an  endless  succession  of  thrilling  incidents  and 
adventures,  preposterous  in  themselves,  it  may  be,  but 
related  with  the  most  imposing  conviction,  and  rendered 
quite  credible  for  the  moment  by  the  ease  of  their 
sequence,  and  the  rapidity  with  which  they  pass.  Incon- 


12  Introduction 

sistencies  are  reconciled  and  anachronisms  overborne  by 
the  strong  vitality  of  the  perennial  story,  which,  as  it  is 
handed  down  from  father  to  son,  adopts  and  retains 
something  from  each  period  without  losing  its  identity, 
and  often  reflects,  in  quaint  association  with  the  most 
modern  views  and  impressions,  the  ruling  passion  of  a 
long-past  time — the  Huguenot's  hatred  and  distrust 
of  the  priest;  the  exulting  contempt  of  the  first  republi 
can  era  for  courtiers  and  kings.  Now  and  then,  perhaps, 
the  sentiment  is  less  antiquated  than  it  appears,  and 
points  to  some  unchangeable  idiosyncrasy  of  race.  The 
exceedingly  rude  treatment  accorded  to  the  gentle  bride 
in  the  story  of  "  Monsieur  Arcanvel "  might  seem  like 
a  survival  from  the  dark  ages,  but  for  our  recollection 
of  the  complacency  with  which  good  Tante  Portal  in 
"Numa  Roumestan"  is  made  to  quote  the  current  Pro- 
vengal  proverb :  "  Lesfemmcs  ne  sont  pas  des  genss." 

Very  rarely,  as  in  the  droll  story  of  "How  Anglas 
Became  a  Marquis,  or  the  Ants,  the  Ducks,  and  Flies," 
a  certain  flourish  is  made  at  the  outset  of  a  precept  to 
be  inculcated — in  this  case  the  duty  of  kindness  and 
consideration  to  the  humblest  of  God's  creatures.  But 
here,  as  always,  the  story  is  so  much  better  even  than 
the  moral,  that  the  latter  falls  rather  into  abeyance. 

The  main  lessons  conveyed  by  the  fireside  tales  of 
Languedoc  are  those  benignant  and  encouraging,  if  ele 
mentary  ones — those  which  appeal  so  forcibly  to  a  child's 
sense  of  justice,  and  are  none  the  less  grateful  to  the 


Introduction  1 3 

reader  of  experience  because  they  show  a  refreshing  dis 
parity  with  the  average  results  of  life — that  the  bravest 
youth  will  win  the  best  and  fairest  bride,  without  refer 
ence  to  original  differences  of  condition ;  that  the  virtu 
ous  poor  man  will  inherit  and  enjoy  the  estates  of  the 
malign  millionaire;  and  the  bold,  bad  boy  who  has 
maltreated  his  brother  will  be  humbled  in  due  course 
of  time  and  handed  over  to  the  relentless  magnanimity 
of  his  junior;  in  short,  that  every  good  deed  is  bound 
to  receive  a  tangible  reward,  even  in  this  present  evil 
world,  and  every  wrong  a  triumphant  righting. 

The  time-worn  elder  may  shake  his  head  officially 
over  such  flattering  promises,  but  his  juvenile  auditory 
will  be  clamoring  loudly  meanwhile  to  hear  the  story 
read  again;  and  that,  after  all,  is  the  true  test  of  excel 
lence  in  such  matters. 

HARRIET  WATERS  PRESTON. 

October  1st,  1896. 


l»p  Grandfathers 
Cour  of  France* 


My  Grandfather's  Tour  of 
France 

DURING  the  long  winter  evenings  of  my  youth,  my 
grandfather  used  to  amuse  us  and  keep  us  awake 
by  telling  stories  of  all  sorts,  but  the  one  which  we  liked 
best  was  the  account  of  a  journey  that  he  had  taken 
when  a  young  man  before  his  marriage. 

Travelling  in  those  days  was  very  different  from 
what  it  is  now.  The  middle  class  had  no  private 
carriages;  the  lords,  and  high  dignitaries  of  the  church, 
travelled  in  lumbering  vehicles  of  their  own  over 
abominable  roads;  the  industrial,  the  bourgeois, 
travelled  on  horseback,  and  the  rest  on  foot.  To  be  sure 
the  mail  coach  carried  three  or  four  passengers,  but  that 
was  too  expensive  for  any  but  the  nobles,  the  clergy,  and 
the  government  officials.  The  pedestrians,  and  they 
were  few,  indeed,  for  most  people  staid  at  home,  were 
"  compagnons"  or  journeymen-joiners,  saddlers,  masons, 
carpenters,  blacksmiths,  and  others,  who  tramped  about 
to  see  the  country  and  returned  home  with  the  prestige 
of  a  traveller.  "Faire  son  tour  de  France"  it  was  called. 


1 8  Tales  of  Languedoc 

However  skillful  a  craftsman  the  "compagnon"  might 
be,  he  was  not  considered  up  in  his  trade  unless  he  had 
made  his  "tour  de  France,"  and  though  he  had  travelled 
ever  so  little  the  most  stupid  fellow  in  the  universe  was 
all  right  if  he  had  gone  a  few  miles  away  from  home. 
Some  went  to  Galician,  others  to  Uzes,  a  few  went  to 
Lyons,  and  when  one,  perchance,  went  to  Paris,  then  you 
should  have  seen  how  proud  he  was,  and  heard  the  lies 
he  told.  Ah,  that  one  knew  it  all ! 

Almost  all  left  home  well  dressed,  with  sack  well-filled 
and  some  money  in  pocket;  they  returned  lean  and 
empty,  in  tattered  summer  clothes  in  the  middle  of 
winter,  a  few  rags  tied  in  a  handkerchief,  shoes  out  at 
the  sole,  a  shock  of  unkempt  hair,  and  as  much  money 
as  there  is  in  my  eye.  But,  in  spite  of  all  this,  look  out! 
they  had  been  to  Lyons !  Well,  the  customs  of  the  times 
were  such! 

Those,  who  like  my  grandfather  had  been  to  distant 
countries  for  their  education,  were  very  rare,  and  often 
they  had  for  travelling  companions  the  tradesmen  above 
mentioned  or  some  soldiers  returning  home  from  their 
discharge. 

You  must  understand  that  such  a  journey  lasted 
many  months  and  that,  from  time  to  time,  the  traveller 
had  to  rest.  My  grandfather  improved  those  days  in 
visiting  places  of  interest  in  the  towns  where  he  tarried 
as  he  passed  through.  Thus  he  saw  many  sights,  had 
many  adventures,  heard  many  tales,  and  it  was  all  this 


My  Grandfather's  Tour  of  France  2 1 

that  he  used  to  relate  to  us  winter  evenings  by  the  large 
fire-place  of  the  ancestral  dwelling. 

My  brother  and  I  sat  on  each  side  of  the  hearth  under 
the  mantel  of  the  great  kitchen  chimney,  watching  the 
slow  burning  log,  hearing  the  sizz  of  the  pot  hung  on 
the  crane,  and  listening  for  hours  to  the  stories  of  my 
white-haired  grandfather. 

I  shall  let  my  grandfather  speak  and  be  only  the 
scribe  taking  down  the  story  as  faithfully  as  my  memory 
will  allow. 

"  When  I  was  young  I  had  a  great  leaning  toward 
an  education.  I  remember  going  to  school  and  taking 
great  delight  in  reading  the  two  or  three  books  which 
were  all  the  teacher  had,  and  in  the  lessons  in  geo 
graphy  of  France,  on  the  customs  of  the  people,  and  a 
good  deal  about  distant  countries.  These  things  inter 
ested  me  so  much,  that  the  desire  to  see  for  myself  the 
things  he  told  us  about  increased  as  I  grew  older,  and 
when  out  of  my  teens,  I  ventured  to  speak  to  my  father 
of  my  great  desire  to  travel.  My  father  was  much 
surprised  at  first  and  a  little  annoyed ;  but,  as  he  was 
exceedingly  intelligent,  he  soon  realized  that  a  trip  to 
distant  provinces  might  be  a  great  benefit  to  me  through 
life — a  serious  journey,  of  course,  not  a  frivolous  trip, — 
so  he  took  me  to  his  room,  and  very  impressively,  gave 
me  all  the  injunctions  which  his  parental  duty  required. 

"  He  told  me  what  my  conduct  should  be  towards  my 


22  Tales  of  Languedoc 

fellowmen,  especially  my  fellow  travellers — he  cautioned 
me  against  being  out  late,  and  warned  me  of  wicked 
companions  and  highwaymen — he  gave  me  much  other 
counsel  to  which  I  gave  little  heed  at  the  time, — like 
any  other  youngster,  but  which,  I  confess,  was  to  me  of 
great  value  during  my  journey,  as  well  as  in  after  life. 

"'To  encourage  you  in  well-doing/  added  my  father, 
'  I  will  tell  you  what  happened  to  a  young  man  of  the 
Camargue — you  will  see  that  good  conduct  and  kind 
ness  often  receive  their  reward  on  this  earth.'" 


fw>  rtw 


fiou>  young 
Became  a  marquis, 
or  tbe  Storp  of 
tbe  Ducks,  tbe  Ante, 
and  tbe  flies. 


How   Young  Anglas   Became   a 
Marquis 

NOT  far  from  Aiguemorte,  on  the  Mediterranean  sea, 
lived  a  rich  peasant  named  Anglas.  His  farm  was 
one  of  the  finest  in  the  fertile  region  of  the  Lower  Rhone, 
and  was  known  far  and  wide  as, '  The  Tour  of  Anglas.' 

On  this  domain  he  lived  with  his  son,  a  promising 
young  man,  upon  whom  he  had  bestowed  great  care. 

Young  Anglas  had  finished  school,  and  was  eager 
to  take  a  trip  to  Paris.  Ambitious  as  such  an  undertak 
ing  was  for  his  country-folk,  the  father  had  granted  the 
young  man's  desire,  and  furnished  a  handsome  outfit  for 
the  journey.  A  fine  young  horse  from  the  Camargue, 
snow  white,  with  head  alert,  tail  sweeping  the  ground, 
nimble  as  a  lean  cat !  He  could  leap  a  twelve-foot  ditch 
at  a  bound,  and  the  rider  was  fearless  as  the  steed  was 
swift. 

A  fine  appearance  they  made  on  the  morn  of  the  de 
parture,  the  shining  white  palfrey  and  handsome  young 
rider.  The  father  could  not  help  exclaiming,  as  he 
viewed  the  youth  from  top  to  toe,  admiring  his  black 
hair,  hazel  eyes,  pearly  teeth,  and  self-reliant  manner: 
"  What  a  fine  fellow ;  not  many  can  equal  him ! "  Then 
he  added,  with  a  shade  of  sadness :  "  May  God  bless 


26  Tales  of  Languedoc 

him  on  his  journey,  and  may  he  return  to  me  a  man  of 
experience,  yet  as  pure  and  good  as  he  is  now." 

When  the  horse  and  rider  were  lost  to  sight,  the  old 
man  fell  a  prey  to  sad  reflections;  a  tear  moistened  his 
eye,  and  as  he  entered  his  house  he  said :  "  Alas,  what 
awaits  him  in  his  travels  ?  Were  I  with  him  I  might 
direct  and  protect  him ;  but  ignorant  as  he  is  of  the 
hardships  of  travel,  the  temptations  of  the  world  and  of 
evil  companions,  abandoned  to  himself,  what  will  become 
of  him  ?  "  And  day  by  day,  as  he  followed  his  son  in 
his  wanderings  northward,  he  thought  only  of  the  perils 
he  might  encounter,  and  his  heart  remained  a  prey  to 
the  griefs  of  separation. 

From  the  young  man's  point  of  view  all  appeared 
very  different.  He  had  heard  so  much  about  it  from  his 
friends  who  had  taken  the  trip  that  he  was  burning  with 
desire  to  see  and  learn;  so  it  was  not  with  reluctance 
that  he  quitted  the  farm,  on  that  eventful  morning, 
mounted  his  pawing  steed,  gay  as  a  goldfinch,  and 
dashed  out  into  the  world,  scarcely  looking  back  to  see 
his  father,  who  stood  waving  adieus  until  he  was  out 
of  sight. 

In  holiday  mood,  the  young  man  went  on  his  way. 
The  sights  he  saw  and  the  adventures  he  met  with  will 
make  a  wonderful  story,  so  let  us  follow  him. 

His  way  at  first  led  along  dikes  and  ditches,  through 
marshes  and  among  many  ponds  and  lakes.  He  passed 
over  bridges,  across  islets,  and  forded  the  shallow  waters 


Young  Anglas  27 

as  he  pursued  his  course.  Little  villages  sprang  up  as 
way  marks.  He  had  passed  several  before  the  close  of  the 
first  day, — Bramasec,  Canaveira,  Servilla,  and  was  near- 
ing  La  Fossa,  when  something  happened.  The  white 
dust  in  the  middle  of  the  road  suddenly  became  alive,  a 
black  moving  mass  confronted  him.  He  stopped  short, 
very  much  frightened,  and  found  to  his  great  surprise 
that  the  road  was  covered,  as  far  as  he  could  see,  with 
ducks.  Ducks  are  plenty  in  that  region,  and  they  often 
migrate  from  one  lake  to  another,  either  swimming  or 
flying;  but  these  were  ducklings,  in  pin-feathers,  and 
could  not  fly  at  all,  so  the  traveller  was  brought  to  a 
standstill  before  this  army  of  slow  waddlers.  "  He  walks 
like  a  duck,"  is  often  said  of  a  clumsy  walker;  and,  with 
the  way  blocked  by  these  slow,  awkward  creatures,  what 
to  do  was  the  question. 

"While  Anglas  was  debating,  up  came  a  mother  of  the 
flock,  and  said  to  him,  in  her  patois,  "  Gentle  knight,  do 
no  harm  either  to  me  or  my  flock,  and  I  may  some  day 
do  you  a  service." 

"  My  father,"  said  Anglas,  "  has  too  often  taught  me 
to  harm  no  one  for  me  not  to  heed  his  advice ;  I  will 
do  you  no  harm;"  so  saying,  he  spurred  his  horse,  which, 
quick  as  a  deer,  leaped  the  ditch  to  the  right,  and  fol 
lowed  the  dike.  From  this  vantage  ground  he  looked 
back  on  the  ducks.  The  road  was  full  of  them;  as  far 
as  the  eye  could  reach  there  was  nothing  but  ducks. 
Reaching  the  end  of  the  dike  of  the  ditch,  he  rode  on 


28  Tales  of  Languedoc 

the  high  dikes  of  the  Rhone,  and  the  road  was  yet  full 
of  them.  At  last,  about  sundown,  he  passed  the  last 
ones,  and,  as  he  wished  to  spend  the  night  at  Galician, 
at  the  house  of  a  friend,  he  decided  to  ford  the  lake. 

The  horse  and  rider,  gliding  over  the  waters  of  the 
lake,  was  a  scene  for  a  painter.  The  superb  animal  held 
his  head  proudly  high,  while  his  long,  flowing  mane 
trailed  the  water,  and  his  waving  tail  floated  out  behind. 
He  seemed  to  scarcely  sink  in  the  water  for  fear  of  drench 
ing  his  rider.  Thus  they  safely  crossed  the  lake,  and 
reached,  by  nightfall,  the  house  of  his  friend. 

Here  Anglas  met  with  a  hearty  welcome.  His  friend 
did  not  expect  him,  but  was  greatly  pleased  to  see  him. 

After  the  usual  greetings,  a  good  supper  and  a  night's 
rest,  he  set  out  next  day  as  cheerily  as  on  the  first  of  his 
journey. 

He  did  not  mention  to  his  friend  his  meeting  with  the 
ducks  nor  his  conversation  with  the  mother  duck.  It 
was  too  natural  in  those  regions  to  meet  ducks,  and  as  to 
his  conversation  with  the  leader  of  the  flock,  he  attached 
to  it  too  little  importance. 

Thanking  his  friend  warmly,  he  set  out  for  Garon, 
thence  toward  Jonquieres,  crossed  the  Rhone  on  the  sus 
pension-bridge  at  Beaucaire,  visiting  Tarascon  and  her 
Tarasque,  which  is  neither  man  nor  beast,  but  a  creature 
of  whose  historic  fame  you  may  sometimes  learn.  From 
Tarascon  he  went  to  Avignon,  and  saw  the  castles  of  the 
Popes. 


Young  Anglas  3  i 

A  month  later,  we  find  him  in  the  vicinity  of  Vienne, 
in  Dauphiny,  at  the  foot  of  a  steep  grade  known  as  the 
Grade  of  Tarare.  The  sun  hardly  pierces  the  clouds,  his 
horse,  which  has  been  trotting  since  leaving  the  inn,  is 
set  to  a  walk.  He  is  cheerful,  happy,  and,  so  far,  satisfied 
with  his  journey. 

The  road  makes  a  sharp  bend  a  little  higher  up. 
When  he  reaches  this  bend,  he  stops  short,  and,  this  time, 
very  much  frightened. 

His  horse  sprang  to  one  side,  and,  had  he  not  been  a 
good  horseman,  he  would  have  been  thrown  off.  But  he 
is  not  a  man,  after  all,  to  lose  his  wits ;  he  pats  the  horse's 
neck,  speaks  reassuringly  to  him,  and  faces  the  seeming 
danger. 

The  road  appeared  to  be  flowing  with  blood,  as  if 
poured  out  from  the  hill-top.  "Good  gracious!"  he  ex 
claimed,  "  a  whole  army  must  have  been  massacred  on 
yonder  hill !  "What  does  all  this  mean?" 

While  thus  guessing,  the  blood  reached  his  horse's  feet 
and  he  saw  that  it  was  only  a  colony  of  red  ants  pouring 
down  the  road,  like  an  avalanche.  No  doubt,  they  were 
on  their  way  to  a  change  of  climate,  and  fast  they  went, 
too,  unlike  the  flock  of  ducks  previously  met. 

One  of  the  mother  ants  left  the  ranks,  and  came 
towards  him,  and  said,  in  her  language,  "Horseman, 
gentle  horseman,  do  no  harm  either  to  me  or  my  little 
ones,  and  we  may  some  day  render  you  a  service." 

Young  Anglas,  faithful  to  his  father's  admonitions, 


32  Tales  of  Languedoc 

granted  her  request,  and,  as  in  the  case  of  the  ducks,  left 
the  highway,  went  down  precipices,  climbed  steep  hills, 
crossed  woods  and  ravines,  at  the  risk  of  his  life.  Two 
or  three  times  he  came  near  the  road  to  follow  it  again, 
but  found  it  full  of  ants,  and  was  obliged  to  turn  away. 
At  last,  about  sunset,  he  was  able  to  take  the  road,  and 
reached,  by  nightfall,  a  town. 

The  next  day,  and  the  day  following,  he  pursued  his 
way.  observing,  and  taking  notes  of  the  points  of  interest. 
Two  weeks  after  his  encounter  with  the  ants  we  find  him 
on  the  banks  of  the  Seine,  in  the  vicinity  of  Melum. 

On  that  day  the  sky  was  overcast,  it  had  rained  during 
the  night,  the  atmosphere  was  thick  and  muggy,  not  a 
breath  of  air  was  stirring.  Toward  ten  o'clock,  the  sun 
pierced  the  clouds,  and  the  heat  was  depressing. 

He  was  walking  his  horse,  whose  white  coat  was  cov 
ered  with  foam.  Young  Anglas  was  mopping  his  brow, 
and  exclaiming,  "  Whew,  what  a  hot  day ! "  when  the 
sun  hid  again  behind  a  cloud.  The  cloud  proved  to 
be  a  swarm  of  flies,  and  they  soon  surrounded  him.  They 
were  everywhere, — overhead,  at  his  horse's  feet,  in  the 
road,  on  the  trees.  Although  in  the  swamps  of  the  Ca- 
margue,  near  his  home,  flies  are  unusually  thick,  never 
had  he  seen  so  many  of  them. 

He  had  stopped  his  horse,  and  was  thinking  what  to 
do,  when  a  mother  fly  came  out  of  the  swarm,  and  said 
to  him,  this  time  in  pretty  good  French,  "  Horseman, 
gentle  horseman,  do  no  harm  to  me  or  my  little  ones, 


27     / 


Young  Anglas  35 

and  I  may  some  day  render  you  a  service."  As  this  was 
the  third  time  the  request  had  been  made,  he  was  some 
what  surprised;  but,  still  remembering  his  father's  in 
junctions,  he  left  the  main  road,  went  across  meadows 
and  plowed  land,  up  and  down  many  hills,  to  avoid 
hurting  any  of  them. 

When  he  took  the  road  again,  all  the  flies  had  passed, 
and  not  one  of  them  had  been  killed  by  accident  or  other 
wise  by  his  horse  or  himself. 

At  last,  at  the  end  of  a  certain  time,  he  arrived  in 
Paris,  in  good  health,  high  spirits,  and  promising  himself 
the  pleasure  of  visiting  every  nook  and  corner  of  the  great 
capital  of  France. 

Far  was  he  from  foreseeing  what  awaited  him.  Hardly 
had  he  alighted  from  his  horse  at  the  inn  where  he  had 
decided  to  stay,  when  the  innkeeper  said  to  him,  "  No 
doubt,  you  have  come  to  compete  like  all  the  other 
youths, — the  more,  the  merrier! — and  why  not?  At 
your  time  of  life  you  must  do  like  the  rest." 

Surprised  to  be  thus  addressed,  he  replied,  "  I  do  not 
know  what  you  mean.  Is  there  a  race,  a  contest,  a  com 
petition  of  some  sort?  I  know  nothing  at  all  about  it." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  the  innkeeper,  "  I  will  tell  you  all 
about  it;  let  us  have  our  dinner." 

At  table  he  found  a  great  many  youths,  come  from  all 
parts  of  France.  Each  one  related  what  he  had  done,  as 
well  as  some  things  he  had  not  done.  Many  a  lie  was 
told  and  much  boasting  indulged  in.  Young  Anglas, 


36  Tales  of  Languedoc 

from  the  corner  of  the  table,  was  all  ears  to  listen,  and, 
finally,  learned  what  the  innkeeper  meant  by  a  competi 
tion.  It  would  take  too  long  to  tell  all  that  was  said,  but, 
in  short,  it  was  this: 

The  king,  while  boating  on  the  Seine,  had  used  his 
pocket-handkerchief  (kings  are  human,  like  other  people); 
drawing  it  from  his  pocket,  the  keys  of  the  royal  coffers 
had  fallen  into  the  water. 

At  once  everybody  was  set  in  motion  to  find  them; 
the  boatmen  of  the  Seine,  the  sailors  of  the  ocean,  the 
fishermen  of  the  country. 

For  over  a  month  they  had  dived,  fished,  and  dredged 
daily,  but  in  vain.  The  keys  could  not  be  found.  The 
king  was  in  despair.  He  needed  money — kings  always 
need  money — and,  without  his  keys,  the  royal  treasury 
could  not  be  opened. 

Then,  in  a  moment  of  great  impatience,  the  king 
caused  to  be  announced  that  he  would  give  his  daughter 
in  marriage  to  any  one  who  should  bring  him  the  keys 
within  twenty-four  hours.  The  twenty-four  hours  was 
to  begin  the  day  after  young  Anglas  arrived, — at  ten 
o'clock  in  the  morning. 

You  may  imagine  what  a  hurly-burly  Paris  was  in ! 
On  what  a  scale  preparations  were  made !  All  the  boats 
were  let  for  their  weight  in  gold.  All  the  fishermen 
from  all  the  ports  of  France  had  come.  Every  man  who 
owned  a  boat  on  the  French  rivers  was  on  the  spot;  so 
the  commotion  and  noise  was  beyond  description. 


Young  Anglas  37 

At  the  appointed  time,  all  Paris  and  a  great  part  of 
the  surrounding  populace  were  on  the  banks  of  the 
Seine.  The  innkeeper  arid  young  Anglas  were  in  the 
crowd,  but  only  as  spectators.  All  were  eager  to  know 
who  the  happy  mortal  would  be  whom  chance  would 
favor  as  finder  of  the  keys.  The  king  himself  and  his 
whole  court  had  come  to  join  the  throng. 

All  day  long  they  fished,  they  dredged,  they  jostled 
one  another,  but  without  results.  At  nightfall  the  crowd 
dispersed,  the  king  and  his  court  returned  to  the  palace; 
but  all  were  bent  on  returning  next  day  to  try  again 
their  luck. 

In  the  evening  at  the  table  each  one  related  his  ex 
ploits.  One  had  felt  something  under  his  harpoon  and 
thought  he  had  them,  another  had  seen  a  shining  thing 
in  his  net  and  had  his  hopes  raised,  but  it  proved  to  be 
only  a  piece  of  glass,  again  another  told  of  great  things 
he  had  seen  and  done;  when  a  youth  from  the  middle 
of  the  table  addressed  young  Anglas,  saying:  "You. 
have  not  tried ;  do  you  believe  the  keys  will  come  in 
your  pocket  by  magic  ?  If  you  don't  search  you  can't 
have  them ;  '  all  the  craft  is  in  the  catching.' " 

He  replied :  "  I  did  not  come  to  Paris  for  this  purpose, 
I  knew  nothing  about  the  lost  keys,  it  is  the  innkeeper 
who  told  me  of  it  first,  and  he  also  accompanied  me  to 
the  Seine  as  a  mere  spectator;  and  when  I  saw  that 
jostling,  quarrelling  crowd,  and  heard  the  uproar,  I  re 
marked  to  myself  that  no  one  could  fish  out  those  keys; 


171 


7  8  Tales  ot   Languedoc 

%j  ^j 

so  you  will  not  have  a  competitor  in  me.     To-morrow  I 
will  do  as  I  did  to-day,  I  will  watch  you." 

From  the  middle  of  the  table  a  tall  stout  lad  spoke  up 
loud  enough  to  be  heard  all  over  the  room :  "  Fellows,  I 
distrust  those  who  are  so  discreet  and  say  little  !  Often 
they  work  underhand  and  all  their  modesty  is  just  put 
on  to  mask  their  plans," — then  suddenly  rising  before 


them  all — "  I  prefer  men  who   say  frankly  what  they 
think;  so  to  the  boldest  the  king's  daughter !  " 

All  eyes  were  turned  toward  young  Anglas,  even  a 
few  spoke  roughly  of  him,  and  had  not  the  innkeeper 
interfered  by  announcing  that  it  was  bedtime  they  would 
have  insulted  him. 


Young  Anglas  39 

Poor  Anglas  retired  to  his  room  much  grieved  at 
what  had  been  said  about  him.  He  was  pacing  the  floor 
in  a  gloomy  mood  when  he  heard  three  taps  on  his  win 
dow  pane.  He  stopped  short,  said  to  himself:  "  What 
does  this  mean,  is  the  room  haunted  ?  Ghosts  would 
not  surely  come  to  the  third  story,"  and  he  resumed  his 
walk. 

Tap,  tap,  tap,  was  again  heard  at  the  window  pane. 
He  approached,  opened  it  and  what  was  his  surprise  to 
find  a  large  duck  who  said  to  him :  "  Knight,  gentle 
knight,  you  hurt  neither  me  nor  my  little  ones,  I  have 
come  to  render  you  a  service  in  return." 

"  Why,  I  do  not  need  anything,"  said  Anglas,  "  thank 
you  just  the  same." 

"  Well,"  replied  the  duck,  "  I  heard  that  the  king  lost 
his  keys  and  I  wish  to  dive  and  get  them  for  you. 
Everybody  is  in  bed,  all  is  quiet,  the  moon  shines  bright, 
come  to  the  banks  of  the  Seine  and  within  an  hour  I 
will  give  you  the  lost  keys." 

A  ray  of  hope  crossed  his  mind,  he  took  his  hat,  went 
noiselessly  out  of  the  house  and  betook  himself  to  the 
Seine. 

What  he  saw  was  well  worth  a  painter's  brush ;  the 
pale  rays  of  the  moon  lighting  the  Seine,  the  trees  cast 
ing  here  and  there  soft  shadows,  and  on  the  waters  of  the 
swift  stream,  arranged  in  battalions,  thousands  of  ducks 
only  waiting  the  mother's  signal  to  dive  for  the  keys. 

When  Anglas  appeared  the  mother  said : 


4O  Tales  of  Languedoc 

"  Children,  carefully  examine  the  mud.  Ready? 
Dive!" 

Heads  down,  tails  up  !  Down  they  all  went  at  once 
and  staid  so  long  that  Anglas  thought  them  drowned. 
At  last  they  all  came  up  together. 

"  Have  you  found  anything?  "  said  the  mother. 

"  Nothing  !  nothing !  "  shouted  they  in  concert. 

"  Be  not  discouraged,"  said  the  mother ;  "  the  current 
is  here  very  strong  and  the  keys  may  have  been  carried 
to  yonder  bend." 

She  rested  her  ducklings  a  while  and  then  gave  the 
signal  for  a  new  plunge.  Heads  down,  tails  up! — and 
the  water  closed  in  wavelets  over  the  flock.  Ten  thou 
sand  bills  sifted  the  fine  mud  of  the  river-bend.  They 
remained  longer  than  the  first  time. 

Then — Whizz !  The  fleet  emerged  and  with  a  toss  of 
the  head  each  duck  flung  the  water  from  his  feathers 
and  from  every  throat  rose  the  exultant  cry : 

"  We  have  them !  we  have  them  !  " 

The  mother  duck  took  the  keys  from  the  one  that 
found  them,  placed  them  in  Anglas's  hand,  and  before 
he  had  time  to  thank  her  they  were  gone. 

Left  alone  with  the  precious  keys  in  his  hand,  the 
young  man  was  filled  with  joy.  He  returned  to  his  hotel, 
shut  himself  in  his  room  and  tried  to  sleep,  but  in  vain. 

Morning  came;  he  hastened  to  see  the  innkeeper  and 
inform  him  of  his  find.  The  good  man  exclaimed,  in 
astonishment : 


Young  Anglas  43 

"  You  have  found  the  keys !  you  are  the  luckiest  youth 
in  the  world  !  To-morrow  you  will  be  the  king's  son-in- 
law  !  Come  quickly  with  me."  And  both  went  to  hail 
the  king,  who  was  getting  ready  to  go  to  the  Seine. 

"  My  king,"  said  the  innkeeper,  "  this  youth  has 
found  these  keys, — see  whether  they  are  yours." 

The  king  took  the  keys,  examined  them  carefully, 
and  said : 

"  They  are  mine." 

He  inserted  them  in  the  lock  and  opened  the  royal 
treasury.  Then,  turning  toward  Anglas:  "You  shall 
wed  my  daughter." 

In  one  hour  all  Paris  knew  that  the  keys  had  been 
found,  and  who  the  finder  was.  The  tall  lad  who  had 
hinted  tKat  Anglas  was  mum,  said  to  his  friends  : 

"  I  told  you  so !  Look  out  for  those  uncommunicative 
fellows !  Perhaps  at  the  very  moment  I  was  talking  to 
you  he  had  the  keys  in  his  pocket." 

Another  said:  "He  was  not  seen  in  any  boat;  he 
watched  us  the  whole  day.  I  don't  understand  it." 

A  third  added  "  No  one  knows  where  he  hails 
from, — his  mother  may  be  a  witch.  Did  you  not  see 
how  queer  he  acted  as  he  sat  at  the  end  of  the  table 
and  listened  all  agape  to  everything  that  was  said, 
hardly  answering  a  question,  so  shy  and  innocent  ?  Oh, 
he  had  not  come  to  compete!  Then,  whack!  we  are 
left, — that's  always  the  way, — '  The  fool  will  not  be 
foiled.'  Well, '  There's  no  use  crying  over  spilled  milk.' " 


44  Tales  of  Languedoc 

The  Parisians  thronged  the  streets  to  see  the  lucky 
fellow  who  had  found  the  keys — all  Paris  was  in  a  tur 
moil.  Meanwhile  very  grave  matters  occupied  the  king 
and  his  court. 

Most  likely,  if  Anglas  had  fished  out  the  keys  under 
the  king's  very  nose,  he  would  not  have  gone  back  on 
his  word ;  but  the  courtiers  suspected  magic.  The  keys 
had  not  been  found  at  evening,  and  in  the  morning  this 
young  man  brought  them  to  the  king;  so  they  must 
have  been  found  in  the  night.  The  king  and  his  court 
iers  would  like  to  know  all  about  it,  but  Anglas  held  to 
the  king's  decree,  which  merely  said  whosoever  should 
find  the  keys  within  twenty-four  hours  should  marry  his 
daughter, — and  he  kept  his  own  counsel. 

Courtiers  are  often  envious;  besides,  most  of  them 
had  sons  whom  they  would  have  most  willingly  married 
to  the  king's  daughter.  They  took  counsel,  and  said  to 
the  king  : 

"  Sire,  your  decree  was  given  out  in  a  moment  of  im 
patience  ;  so,  in  your  wisdom,  you  may  annul  it  for  the 
honor  of  your  crown  and  the  happiness  of  your  daughter. 
This  young  man  is  entirely  unknown  to  any  of  us ;  we 
know  not  from  whence  he  comes ;  a  mystery  surrounds 
the  finding  of  the  keys,  and  rumor  has  it  that  a  fairy 
gave  them  to  him.  "We  are  all  of  the  opinion  that  he 
should  be  put  to  another  trial,  to  find  out  whether  he  is 
a  magician." 


Young  Anglas  45 

The  king  allowed  himself  to  be  persuaded,  and  asked 
how  they  proposed  to  try  him. 

A  courtier  with  a  long  white  beard,  sunken  eyes  and 
hooked  nose,  said  : 

"  If  the  king  will  believe  me,  he  will  have  mixed  a 
large  heap  of  wheat,  with  equal  parts  of  sand,  and  will 
give  the  young  man  three  days  to  separate  the  wheat 
from  the  sand." 

All  the  courtiers  exclaimed  :  "  Good  !  Capital  !  "  and 
the  king  agreed  to  it. 

"  In  this  there  can  be  no  magic,"  said  the  old  man. 
"  He  shall  be  left  with  the  task  in  a  room  by  himself, 
and  not  by  night,  either." 

So  said,  so  done.  The  whole  day  wheat  and  sand  were 
carted  to  one  of  the  upper  rooms  of  the  Bastille,  and  they 
informed  Anglas  that  if,  in  three  days,  he  had  separated 
the  wheat  from  the  sand,  the  king's  daughter  should  be 
his  wife. 

Poor  fellow ;  on  hearing  this  his  spirits  fell ;  he  sank 
upon  a  bench,  quite  faint.  He  thought  a  great  while, 
with  his  head  upon  his  hands,  while  saying  to  him 
self: 

"  All  hope  is  lost ;  I  shall  have  to  return  as  I  came. 
That,  however,  would  not  pain  me  so  much,  for  I  had 
not  expected  such  a  marriage ;  but  on  my  father's 
account  I  am  more  sorry.  Poor  father,  how  little  you 
know  the  trials  of  your  son ! " 

As  he  was  saying  this,  he  felt  something  biting  his 


46  Tales  of  Languedoc 

leg.     He  turned  up  his  trousers-  and  saw  a  large  ant, 
which  said  to  him  : 

"  Horseman,  gentle  horseman,  you  did  no  harm  to 
me  or  my  little  ones,  I  have  come  to  render  you  a  ser 
vice.  I  heard  that  the  king's  courtiers  had  spoiled 
your  chance  of  getting  the  king's  daughter,  by  imposing 
on  you  a  task  that  fifty  men  could  not  do  in  a  month. 
I  will  do  the  work  for  you.  To-night  my  little  ones  and 
I  will  come  on  the  roof  of  the  Bastille.  As  soon  as  you 
are  alone,  open  the  window  for  us,  and  you  shall  see 
how  quickly  the  work  will  be  done.  Farewell  until 
to-morrow." 

The  king,  by  his  chamberlain,  informed  Anglas  that 
they  would  send  for  him  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning; 
that  at  noon  they  would  fetch  him  out  for  dinner,  and 
return  him  to  his  work  at  two  o'clock ;  at  six  they  would 
fetch  him  again,  but  that  no  one  was  to  enter  his  room 
and  disturb  him  in  his  work. 

The  following  day  at  the  appointed  time,  he  was 
taken  to  the  Bastille.  They  made  him  wind  through 
corridors,  ascend  stair-cases,  cross  rooms,  which  the  door 
keepers  opened  and  closed  with  enormous  keys,  and, 
finally,  after  many  turns,  he  was  ushered  into  the  room 
which  contained  the  heap  of  sand  and  wheat.  "  There 
is  your  task,"  said  the  guide.  The  door  was  closed,  the 
lock  grated,  and  Anglas  was  left  alone. 

The  mother  ant,  on  leaving  Anglas,  went  quickly  to 
gather  her  little  ones.  Thev  crossed  Paris  under  cover 


V, 


Young  Anglas  49 


of  the  night,  reached  the  Bastille,  and  climbed  to  the  roof 
unseen  by  any  one.  To  be  sure,  some  Parisians  had 
noticed  the  roof  all  red,  but  took  it  for  the  reflection  of 
the  sunrise. 

When  Anglas  was  left  alone,  he  hastened  to  open 
the  window.  The  ants  poured  in  silently  and  noiselessly. 
The  mother  ant  formed  them  in  rows,  so  that  they  could 
work  without  interfering  with  each  other,  and  gave  the 
word  of  command. 

The  young  ants  set  to  work  with  an  alacrity  seldom 
seen,  even  in  ants. 

By  noon  they  had  the  work  half  done;  they  rested 
just  long  enough  to  eat,  and  went  on  with  their  work. 
Long  before  six  o'clock  they  were  through.  Quickly 
and  silently  they  left  the  room,  climbed  over  the  roof, 
lodged  in  between  the  tiles,  awaiting  the  dead  of  night 
to  cross  Paris. 

When  the  chamberlain  came  towards  six  o'clock  to 
fetch  Anglas,  he  inquired  of  the  young  man  how  he  was 
getting  along,  adding :  "  I  hope  you  are  not  discouraged." 

"  Not  at  all,"  replied  the  youth,  "  little  cause  for  it, 
since  I  am  through." 

"Through!"  exclaimed  the  officer,"  through?  No, 
that  can't  be.  Let  me  see." 

They  went  in.  The  chamberlain  was  dumbfounded. 
On  one  side  was  the  heap  of  wheat,  yellow  and  clean,  as 
if  just  from  a  pigeon's  crop,  and  on  the  other  side  was 
the  sand. 


50  Tales  of  Languedoc 

He  hastened  to  inform  the  king  and  courtiers,  who, 
with  faces  as  long  as  their  sleeves,  eyed  one  another 
aghast.  "With  crest-fallen  mien,  they  muttered  between 
their  teeth:  "How  has  he  done  this  feat!  Fifty  men 
could  not  have  done  it  in  a  month,  and  this  fellow 
has  done  it  in  a  day !  "  The  mystery  was  greater  than 
before. 

Said  the  one  who  had  devised  the  test:  "  It  is  noised 
that  this  fellow  is  a  wizard,  and  were  I  the  king,  I 
would  certainly  not  give  him  my  daughter  before  knowing 
more  about  him.  All  the  courtiers  said  that  the  gentle 
man  was  right,  and  had  they  a  daughter,  they  would 
hesitate  to  give  her  to  him. 

Anglas  had  meanwhile  gone  to  his  hotel  to  await  the 
king's  decision.  Racked  by  many  conflicting  emotions, 
he  scarcely  slept  that  night. 

Early  in  the  morning,  he  came  down  stairs  and  met 
the  innkeeper,  who  said  to  him :  "  Young  man,  I  see 
you  are  very  unhappy ;  it  is  unfortunate  for  you  that 
you  have  no  friends  at  court.  After  what  you  have 
done,  the  king's  daughter  should  be  yours.  Had  you 
been  one  of  the  courtier's  sons,  she  would  now  be  your 
wife.  I  shall  be  much  surprised  if  they  do  not  invent 
some  pretext  to  cheat  you  out  of  your  right  yet.  Jeal 
ousy  is  cruel,  and  stoops  to  anything.  Note  what  I  say, 
young  man." 

Anglas  calmly,  but  manfully,  replied  :  "  I  am  here  to 
see  it  through." 


Young  Anglas  51 

At  ten.  o'clock  the  court  met  to  deliberate  and  see  what 
should  be  done.  Each  courtier  did  his  best  to  calumniate 
the  youth  and  to  flatter  the  king ;  but  his  majesty  cut 
their  speeches  short  by  saying: 

"  Gentlemen,  so  far  I  have  followed  your  advice,  now 
hear  what  I  have  decided  of  my  own  account. 

"  I  will  choose  twelve  girls  of  the  same  size,  same  age, 
and  in  looks  as  nearly  like  my  daughter  as  possible. 
They  shall  be  dressed  in  white,  and  shall  stand  together 
in  my  presence,  yours,  and  the  young  man's.  If  he 
guesses  which  one  is  my  daughter,  he  shall  have  her  for 
his  wife.  Such  is  my  good  pleasure." 

All  the  courtiers  found  the  scheme  excellent.  They 
perhaps  did  not  think  so,  but,  as  servile  flatterers,  they 
highly  approved  of  it ;  hoping  secretly  that  they  might 
disconcert  him  by  their  presence,  so  that  he  would  not 
guess  right. 

The  test  was  to  take  place  on  the  next  day  at  ten 
o'clock,  and  rendezvous  was  given  Anglas  at  the  palace 
of  the  king. 

Our  youth  felt  very  uneasy  on  hearing  this.  Country 
bred,  as  he  was,  the  idea  of  court  manners  and  court 
society  seemed  very  formidable.  To  stand  in  the  pres 
ence  of  the  king,  and  handsome  lords  and  ladies  in  full 
dress,  and  to  face  the  twelve  young  damsels,  who  would, 
no  doubt,  think  him  very  awkward,  was  no  small  ordeal. 
So  his  heart  was  beating  to  breaking  when  he  came  into 
the  presence  of  the  brilliant  company. 


52  Tales  of  Languedoc 

His  embarrassment  was  somewhat  relieved  by  the 
king,  who  said:  "  My  young  friend,  come  near  me,  and 
if  within  an  hour  you  point  out  to  me  and  my  court  the 
one  of  the  twelve  young  ladies  who  is  my  daughter,  she 
shall  be  your  wife;  I  pledge  you  my  kingly  word." 

Young  Anglas  made  no  reply,  but  was  thinking  that 
his  chances  of  guessing  right  were  small,  having  never 
seen  the  young  princess  before,  when  something  tickled 
his  ear  and  a  small  voice  whispered: 

"Horseman,  gentle  horseman,  you  hurt  neither  me 
nor  my  little  flies;  now  I  have  come  to  render  you  a  ser 
vice.  Watch  me  carefully.  I  will  alight  on  the  nose  of 
the  king's  daughter.  She  will  brush  me  off  with  her  fan. 
Pay  close  attention." 

With  a  flight  she  is  on  the  nose  of  the  princess.  With 
her  fan  the  damsel  brushes  her  off.  She  goes  out  by 
the  key-hole  to  get  a  breath  of  air,  then  flies  to  Anglas's 
ear. 

"  Did  you  notice  her?"  said  she ;  "  well,  watch  again." 

Once  more  she  is  on  the  nose  of  her  highness,  once 
more  she  is  brushed  off.  She  flies  out  of  the  room  for  a 
while,  and  finally  alights  on  the  window-sill,  passes  her 
fore  feet  over  her  head,  and,  with  her  hind  feet,  smooths 
her  wings,  apparently  joyous  to  be  of  use  to  the  kind 
young  man.  Then,  for  the  third  time,  she  tickles  the 
royal  nose,  and,  for  the  third  time,  she  is  brushed  off  with 
the  fan. 

Returning  to  Anglas,  she  inquired  if  he  was  sure  of 


Young  Anglas  53 

picking  out  the  princess.     "  Yes,  yes;  many  thanks,"  said 
Anglas. 

"  Well,"  said  the  king,  "  which  do  you  say  is  my 
daughter?  The  happiness  of  your  life  is  in  this 
choice." 

"  If  I  choose  aright  may  I  kiss  her  hand?" 

"  Certainly,  my  boy,"  replied  the  king. 

Anglas  bowed,  went  straight  to  the  king's  daughter, 
knelt  before  her,  and  printed  a  kiss  upon  her  fingers. 

Greatly  surprised,  the  king  exclaimed  in  a  firm  voice, 
"  Kiss  her  on  both  cheeks,  she  is  your  bride." 

The  young  man  accepted  the  privilege  with  perfect 
composure.  The  princess,  blushing,  gave  one  of  her 
sweetest  smiles,  and  the  courtiers  offered  their  warmest 
congratulations. 

The  king  bowed  himself  away,  entered  his  private 
apartment,  and  summoned  Anglas  before  him. 

"Tell  me,"  said  the  king,  "who  are  you,  and  rom 
whence  you  come?" 

Anglas,  with  a  candor  and  frankness  that  pleased  the 
king,  told  his  whole  story.  His  majesty,  glad  to  have 
found  such  a  wise  and  good  man,  gave  orders  to  receive 
Anglas  at  the  palace  at  once,  and  for  his  father  to  be 
summoned  to  Paris. 

Proud  and  happy,  the  father  came,  rejoicing  that  his 
advice  had  borne  such  fruit. 

The  king  conferred  the  title  of  Marquis  on  Anglas  the 
day  of  the  wedding,  and  gave  him  large  estates,  fine  cas- 


54  Tales  of  Languedoc 

ties,  horses,  and  equipages  in  plenty.     And  this  is  how 
Young  Anglas  became  Marquis. 

The   cock   crew,   the    story    ended,   and   my    father 
remarked : 

"  Caou  ten  lou  drg  camin,  caSu  6s  bon,  juste,  ai'mable", 
Caou  fa'i  pa  tor  a  r6s,  qu6s  umen,  charitable1, 
S6  sus  terra  das  om8s  6s  pa  re'coumpensa, 
Lou  boun  D'iou  lou  surve"ia  6  1'abandouna  pa."  * 


*  Whosoever  keeps  the  narrow  path,  is  kind,  just,  and  true  ;  wrongs  no  one, 
is  humane,  charitable,  if  on  this  Earth  he  receives  no  reward,  God  who  watches 
over  him  will  not  forsake  him. 


My  Grandfather's  Tour  of  France  5  5 


WHEN  bedtime  came  we  retired, — my  father,  sad 
and  thoughtful,  I  full  of  plans  for  the  future,  and 
jubilant  over  the  prospect  of  setting  out  next  morning. 
We  were  all  up  by  daylight.  My  mother  had  prepared 
all  that  I  needed  for  my  journey, —  linen,  hat,  shoes, 
haversack,  iron-shod  stick,  and  sundry  other  useful  arti 
cles, — while  my  father  had  provided  me  liberally  with 
money.  I  kissed  them  good-bye,  and  off  I  went. 

This  was  on  Monday  morning;  the  weather  was  un- 
propitious,  a  thick  mist  enveloped  the  house  and  trees, 
but,  withal,  my  heart  was  light,  and  I  felt  supremely 
happy. 

When  I  reached  the  two  hills  known  as  Lous  Dous 
Pio,  I  was  met  by  two  men  of  a  neighboring  village. 
They  addressed  me  very  pleasantly,  and  with  them  I  had 
some  instructive  conversation.  I  learned  for  the  first 
time  that  off  one's  own  line  of  thought  one  can  learn  a 
great  deal  from  even  the  humblest  of  men.  These  two 
were  charcoal-burners,  on  their  way  to  Quian,  to  see  some 
standing  wood  for  sale. 

In  the  course  of  my  talk  with  them  I  learned  that  to 
prevent  the  denuding  of  forests,  and  to  maintain  the  rain 
fall  about  constant,  the  law  prevents  the  cutting  of  more 
than  a  twentieth  of  the  woodland  each  year;  so  that  the 
second  growth  on  the  first  cutting  shall  be  nineteen  years 
old  when  the  last  twentieth  is  being  removed. 


The  China-Vender  of  Quissac 

ABOUT  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  we  reached 
the  little  town  of  Quissac,  and  found  to  our  sur 
prise,  a  great  crowd  gathered  on  the  public  square. 
There  seemed  to  be  some  unusual  excitement;  for  as  we 
approached,  we  saw  a  woman  jumping  about  like  a 
lunatic,  and  complaining  loudly  to  the  authorities  of 
some  men  who  stood  there  laughing  at  her,  and  seeming 
to  enjoy  the  situation. 

Once  a  week,  in  the  little  villages,  there  is  a  market 
day.  Merchants  of  all  kinds  go  and  spread  out  their 
wares  in  the  streets,  and  the  peasants  come  to  buy 
their  weekly  provision. 

It  was  market-day,  and  a  china-vender  had  brought 
a  donkey-load  of  her  wares,  and  spread  them  out  on  the 
ground.  She  had  a  very  good  assortment.  The  women 
gathered  around  her,  and  she  was  driving  a  brisk  trade. 
The  donkey,  tired  from  carrying  the  load,  was  eating 
hay  a  few  feet  away.  A  group  of  good-for-nothing  idlers 
stood  looking  on, —  one  finds  them  in  a  crowd  the  world 
over, —  the  loafers  with  more  money  than  brains,  and 
the  wag  in  their  midst.  These  were  smoking  short- 


The  China -Vender  of  Quissac      57 

stemmed  pipes,  and  swapping  jokes,  when  the  wag  said 
to  the  others : 

"  Would  you  like  to  have  a  laugh  ?  " 

"  Of  course,"  replied  they, "  and  what  are  you  up  to?" 

"  You  will  see ; "  and  speaking  to  the  crockery  woman : 

"  My  good  woman,  if  you  will  allow  me  to  say  two 
words  in  your  donkey's  ear,  I  will  give  you  twenty-four 
sous,"  said  he. 

"  What  have  you  to  tell  my  donkey  "  ?  inquired  the 
crockery-vender. 

"  Oh !  not  much ;  but  I  am  sure  I  will  make  him 
happy.  It  will  be  no  mystery;  I  shall  speak  loud  enough 
for  all  to  hear." 

"  No,  no ;  I  won't  allow  you  to  do  it,"  replied  the 
vender. 

"  Why  not?"  retorted  another  one;  "  he  is  not  going  to 
eat  your  donkey  by  speaking  a  few  words  in  his  ear, 
and  you  will  earn  twenty-four  sous;  you  had  better  let 
him  do  it." 

She  very  reluctantly  gave  her  consent ;  and  the  wag, 
with  his  short-sternmed-pipe  freshly  lighted  in  his 
mouth,  approached  the  donke}%  inserted  the  pipe  in  his 
ear,  and  while  saying: 

"  Te,  do  you  know  your  sister  is  engaged,  and  you 
will  soon  be  at  the  wedding,"  he  blew  his  pipe,  and  the 
fire  fell  into  the  donkey's  ear. 

The  beast  jumped,  shook  its  head,  flapped  its  ears, 
and  trampled  on  the  crockery  ware.  The  vender  was 


58  Tales  of  Languedoc 

wild  with  rage.  She  shouted  for  help;  she  tore  her  hair 
to  see  her  plates  and  bowls  all  broken ;  she  called  those 
men  all  sorts  of  names.  They  split  their  sides  with 
laughter,  while  the  wag  coolly  said  to  the  good  woman : 

"  Did  n't  I  tell  you  so?  He  fairly  jumped  for  joy; 
probably  he  has  never  been  at  a  wedding  before ;  that  is 
why  it  tickled  him  so." 

When  the  commotion  created  by  the  donkey  and  its 
owner  had  subsided,  the  crowd  slowly  dispersed.  My 
fellow-travelers  and  I,  who  had  unexpectedly  witnessed 
the  end  of  this  village  scene,  separated.  They  looked  for 
lodgings  at  the  little  inn,  while  I  went  to  the  house  of  an 
acquaintance  of  my  father. 

Made  welcome  by  the  gentleman  and  his  family,  I 
spent  the  night  at  their  house. 

After  supper,  a  neighbor  dropped  in  for  the  evening, 
or  rather  dragged  himself  in;  for  Master  Rinaou  was  so 
old,  bowed  and  paralyzed  that  he  had  to  lean  on  two 
stout  crutches  and  pull  himself  along,  scraping  the  stone 
floor  with  his  sabots.  Thus  slowly  and  painfully  he 
hitched  across  the  room  to  the  wide  arm-chair  by  the 
fireside,  threw  himself  into  it  all  in  a  heap,  hooked  his 
crutches  to  one  arm,  stretched  out  his  lifeless  limbs  with 
his  hands  and  leaned  back.  Quite  unconscious  of  the 
company,  he  settled  himself,  sighed  and  broke  out 
loudly  in  self-contempt: 

"Te  paoure  Meste  Rinaou,  te  tombes  aqui  couma  un 
paou,  ara  leva  te,  mardienna,  coutidienna."* 

"There,  poor  Master  Rinaou,  down  you  fall  like  a  log;  now  get  up  if  you  can. 


The  China-Vender  of  Quissac    61 

The  children,  however,  soon  drew  him  away  from 
himself,  by  asking  for  a  story. 

"  Give  a  story,  Meste  Kinaou ;  please  do,  Meste 
Rinaou." 

"  What  can  poor  Meste  Rinaou  tell  you  ?  "  said  the  old 
man,  with  a  shade  of  sadness. 

"  Give  Meste  Rege,"  said  the  oldest,  a  boy  of  ten. 

"  Yes,  Mestd  Rege,  Mest6  Rege,"  chimed  in  the  other 
two. 

"  It  is  Meste  Rege  you  want,  Meste  Rege  and  Moussu 
Laouren,"  said  Meste  Rinaou;  "  well,  listen." 


The  Adventures  of  Meste  Rege 

MESTE  Rege  lived  at  Aiguemorte,  a  small  town  on 
the  Mediterranean  coast,  and  his  friend,  Moussu 
Laouren,  lived  in  the  little  village  of  St.  Laurent,  an 
hour's  walk  from  Meste  Rege's  house.  They  used  to 
see  each  other  once  a  year,  when  the  summer  work 
was  over,  and,  as  the  hay  was  in  the  barn,  the  grain 
cut  and  threshed,  the  wine-grapes  trampled,  and  the 
wine  in  the  casks,  Meste  Rege  thought  of  taking  some 
rest  and  of  visiting  his  friend,  Moussu  Laouren.  Mest^ 
Rege  was  in  a  very  happy  mood.  His  crops  had 
been  unusually  large,  especially  his  wheat-crop.  Thirt}^ 
Camargues  horses  had  trampled  for  three  weeks  his 
threshing-floor.  You  know  how  they  threshed  wheat 
in  the  Camargue.  The  clay  floor  is  covered  with 
upright  sheaves  closely  packed,  in  the  middle  stands 
a  strong  post  firmly  anchored  to  a  stone.  To  this 
post  the  half-tamed  broncos  are  tied  with  long  ropes 
and  kept  going  at  a  lively  pace  by  a  driver  with  a 
long  lash.  As  they  whirl  around  the  post,  they 
trample  over  the  sheaves,  winding  up  the  rope  so  that 
the  circuits  become  less  and  less.  When  the  rope  is 


The  Adventures  of  Meste  Rege   63 

nearly  wound  up,  the  driver  turns  the  post  upside  down, 
the  rope  begins  to  unwind,  the  horses  go  in  wider  circles 
until  they  again  reach  the  edge  of  the  threshing  floor. 
This  process  is  repeated  until  the  straw  is  evenly  trodden 
and  the  grain  all  threshed  out. 

Well,  it  was  a  very  prosperous  year  for  Meste  Rege, 
and,  happy  as  he  was,  he  did  not  hesitate  long,  and  his 
mind  was  soon  made  up  to  go  and  visit  Moussu  Laouren. 
He  donned  his  best  suit,  exchanged  his  sabots  for  a  pair 
of  shoes,  kissed  his  wife  and  children  good-bye,  took  his 
staff,  and  set  out  on  his  long  journey. 

By  the  wayside  he  knew  of  an  eagle's  nest.  He  had 
the  curiosity  to  get  a  peep  at  it,  which  is  a  most  danger 
ous  thing  to  do,  especially  when  the  eaglets  are  yet  in  the 
nest.  He  hesitated  somewhat  before  going,  but  decided 
to  satisfy  his  curiosity  and  perhaps  get  a  young  eaglet 
to  present  to  his  friend  Moussu  Laouren.  He  climbed 
slowly  and  cautiously,  fearing  to  find  the  mother-bird  in 
the  nest.  This,  unfortunately  for  him,  proved  to  be  the 
case;  for  as  he  approached  the  nest  he  saw  the  eagle 
sitting  on  her  young,  to  keep  them  warm,  no  doubt. 

He  would  gladly  have  turned  around  without  being 
seen  by  the  bird  but  she  had  seen  him  and  came  out  of 
her  nest,  left  her  young,  jumped  on  poor  Meste  Rege, 
fastened  her  beak  onto  the  back  of  his  neck,  her  talons 
onto  the  seat  of  his  breeches  and  carried  him  up  in  the 
air. 

Meste  Rege  thought  himself  lost;  he  prayed  God  to 


64  Tales  of  Languedoc 

receive  his  soul.  Meanwhile  the  eagle  was  soaring 
higher  and  going  toward  the  sea.  When  out  upon  the 
Mediterranean,  the  bird  said  to  herself:  "  Now  I  had 
better  drop  him,  I  am  far  enough  from  the  land,  he  can 
not  swim  ashore,  he  will  be  drowned  so  he  can  never 
trouble  me  again."  So  saying,  she  unfastened  her  talons 
from  Mest6  Rege's  breeches  and  her  beak  from  the  back 
of  his  neck;  she  dropped  him  and  returned  to  her  nest. 

Poor  Meste'  Rege  fell  into  the  water  from  such  a  height 
that  he  was  stunned  and  lost  consciousness.  However 
it  was  only  for  a  little  while,  for  he  soon  came  to  and 
shouted  for  help. 

Fortunately  there  was  a  boat  quite  near  and  the  crew 
hastened  to  see  what  the  object  was.  To  their  great  sur 
prise  the  sailors  saw  that  it  was  a  man  struggling  in  the 
water.  They  took  him  into  the  boat  and  plied  him  with 
questions.  Meste  Regs'  related  his  adventures  to  the 
sailors  and  they  believed  him  at  first,  sailors  are  such  a 
credulous  set,  but  soon  a  tremendous  tempest  arose 
which  threatened  to  engulf  them  all.  But  if  sailors 
are  credulous  they  are  also  superstitious,  and  they 
soon  whispered  amongst  themselves  that  the  cause  of 
the  tempest  was,  no  doubt,  the  man  they  had  rescued 
from  drowning. 

"  God  must  be  displeased  with  us,"  they  said,  "  this 
man  is  some  evil  being  whom  we  should  not  have  fished 
out  of  the  sea.  Let  us  throw  him  to  the  mercy  of  the 
waves  and  perhaps  God  will  be  appeased." 


-'**S~-: 


The  Adventures  of  Meste  Rege   67 

Poor  Meste  Rege,  hearing  their  conversation,  fell  on 
his  knees  and  said  to  them:  "My  dear  friends,  I  am  a 
man  like  yourselves,  I  am  no  evil  being  or  supernatural 
creature,  I  have  told  the  truth  regarding  my  whole 
adventure  and  how  you  came  to  find  me  here." 

But  as  the  wind  blew  more  and  more,  and  the  tempest 
increased  in  violence,  they  refused  to  believe  him;  they 
seized  him  and  began  to  tie  him  hand  and  foot  before 
throwing  him  overboard. 

Meste  Rege  seeing  himself  lost,  and  knowing  that  his 
time  had  come,  and  that  his  end  was  near,  said :  "  My 
friends,  you  have  here  empty  wine-casks;  put  me  inside 
of  one  and  throw  it  overboard  and  perhaps  some  chari 
table  soul  may  find  me  and  save  me." 

What  he  asked  was  granted ;  they  put  him  inside  a 
cask  and  threw  him  into  the  sea. 

The  sailors  had  not  guessed  right,  however;  the 
tempest  increased  in  fury,  so  that  the  vessel  was  nearly 
swamped  by  huge  waves  falling  repeatedly  on  deck. 

As  for  Meste  Rege,  he  was  so  much  tossed  in  his  cask, 
and  so  much  bruised  against  the  sides,  that  he  nearly 
fainted  from  exhaustion  and  pain;  although  praying 
all  the  while  that  God  would  send  some  charita 
ble  soul  to  his  rescue.  He  was  about  to  give  up  hope, 
not  knowing  how  far  out  he  was,  when  suddenly  the  sea, 
which  throws  up  everything  that  floats  on  its  surface, 
by  a  great  billow  hove  ashore  the  cask. 

Oh !  said  he ;  I  am  no  longer  in  the  water.  He  placed 


68  Tales  of  Languedoc 

his  eye  at  the  bunghole  and  looked  out.  Suddenly  he 
thought  he  heard  the  tramp  of  an  animal  and,  fortu 
nately,  he  was  not  mistaken.  It  was  a  cow  looking  for 
some  object  against  which  to  scratch  her  back.  She 
scratched  and  scratched ;  the  cask  turned  and  turned, 
Meste  Rege  with  it.  Bruised  as  he  was,  this  second  shak 
ing  suited  him  not,  but  it  brought  the  cow's  tail  against 
the  bunghole ;  quietly  and  skillfully  he  drew  it  in  with 
his  finger,  rolled  it  around  his  wrist,  and  held  on  to  it 
with  both  hands.  As  soon  as  the  cow  was  through  rub 
bing  and  felt  her  tail  held  fast,  she  set  out  to  run  at  her 
best  speed.  Meste  Reg^  was  all  the  while  holding  on  for 
dear  life,  saying  to  himself.  "  Unless  the  tail  comes  off, 
wherever  she  goes,  I  will  go,  also." 

The  cow  ran,  dragging  the  cask  for  at  least  an  hour ; 
then,  being  tired  out,  she  took  the  road  to  her  master's 
barn.  On  entering  the  yard  she  turned  the  corner  at  such 
speed  that  the  cask  struck  the  gate  post  and  broke  to 
pieces. 

Meste  Rege,  thus  liberated,  looked  about  him  and 
said:  "Why,  this  is  my  own  house!  "  Then  he  heard 
cries  and  lamentations  inside  and,  without  waiting  a 
moment  to  take  breath,  he  rapped  at  the  door,  saying: 
"  Open,  please."  The  wife  and  children  in  tears,  opened 
the  door  and  let  him  in. 

All  fell  on  his  neck,  even  Moussu  Laouren,  who  had 
come  to  console  them.  Then  he  related  his  thrilling  adven 
tures;  they  all  thanked  God  for  his  miraculous  preserva- 


The   Tour  of  France  69 

tion,  tears  were  dried,  mourning  was  changed  to  joy,  and 
the  happy  reunion  was  celebrated  by  a  feast  which  lasted 
eight  days. 

When  Meste  Rinaou  had  done  relating  the  story,  the 
children  thanked  him,  bade  him  good  night,  and  went 
up  stairs  to  bed,  to  dream,  no  doubt,  of  the  wonderful 
adventures  of  Meste  Rege.  Pretty  soon  Meste'  Rinaou 
bade  us,  also,  good-bye.  I  inquired  of  my  host  the  age 
of  Meste  Rinaou.  "  He  is  ninety-five  years  old,"  said  my 
friend,  "  and  it  is  a  pity  you  cannot  spend  a  few  days  with 
us,  and  hear  a  few  more  stories  from  him;  the  old  gen 
tleman  knows  them  by  the  dozen." 

Early  in  the  morning,  after  having  partaken  of  a  good 
breakfast  and  thanked  my  kind  friends,  I  proceeded  on 
my  way. 

The  whole  forenoon  I  traveled  alone,  noticing  every 
blade  of  grass  and  weed  by  the  wayside,  the  trees  and 
birds.  "  Train  your  eyes  to  observe  every  object  you 
meet,  listen  to  every  proper  conversation  you  hear,"  my 
father  had  said  to  me,  "  and  you  will  come  back  to  us 
filled  with  knowledge  of  things  and  men." 

About  noon,  seven  or  eight  men  caught  up  with  me. 
They  asked  my  name,  where  I  was  from,  and  where  I 
was  bound  for.  I  answered  their  questions,  and  the 
whole  band  of  us  set  to  walking  by  twos.  The  man  by 
my  side  might  have  been  fifty  years  old,  and,  knowing 
that  I  was  a  stranger  to  that  part  of  the  country,  he  very 
obligingly  answered  all  my  questions  about  the  different 


70  Tales  of  Languedoc 

villages  we  passed  through  and  the  objects  of  interest  we 
met.  He  also  volunteered  much  information  about  the 
lords  and  noted  men  of  the  country.  I  was  so  much 
absorbed  in  what  he  was  saying,  that  I  did  not  notice 
we  were  at  the  top  of  a  hill.  When  suddenly  he  ex 
claimed  : 

"  Te!  Do  you  see  the  castle  on  yonder  eminence,  sur 
rounded  by  that  park  which  slopes  gently  to  the  banks 
of  the  stream?  Well,  that  is  the  castle  of  La  Ferriere, 
for  years  the  devil  haunted  it,  and  finally  was  driven  off 
by  three  powerful  men." 

My  eyes  were  taking  in  the  castle,  which  impressed 
me  as  a  princely  residence,  and  the  scenery  about  it 
which  could  not  be  surpassed ;  but,  at  the  mention  of  the 
devil,  I  turned  towards  my  companion,  and,  seeing  his 
earnestness,  I  kept  back  the  incredulous  smile  which  was 
already  on  my  lips.  I  had  never  heard  of  the  devil  being 
seen  nor  of  his  haunting  any  place,  excepting  the  hearts 
of  men.  My  father  was  not  superstitious,  and  had  warned 
me  against  such  nonsense;  but,  unwilling  to  offend  the 
kind  old  man,  I  feigned  astonishment,  and  said  I  had 
never  heard  of  the  devil  in  a  castle,  nor  of  strong  men 
who  could  put  him  out,  but  I  would  like  to  know  about 
them.  My  companion  asked  for  nothing  better,  and 
said: 

"  I  am  surprised  you  never  heard  the  story.  Every 
body  in  this  country  knows  it  as  well  as  I  do.  It  is  pretty 
long,  but  we  have  plenty  of  time." 


Cbe  Storp  of  tbe 
Cbree  Strong  l»en,— 
Crowbar, 
fiookbcard, 
and  tbe 


Three   Strong  Men 

IN  the  village  of  Vezenobre  a  good  peasant  took  for  a 
wife  a  woman  so  stout  and  strong  that  she  was  known 
in  the  village  as  Marion  the  Stout.  This  pair  had  a 
twenty-four  month  baby,  a  most  remarkable  child,  and 
he  became  a  great  man. 

At  birth,  he  was  like  a  three-year-old,  with  full  set  of 
teeth,  long  hair,  strong  and  shapely  limbs,  and  a  splendid 
form. 

At  fifteen,  he  was  as  large  as  a  man  of  thirty,  and  his 
strength  was  marvelous  for  his  age.  He  could  lift  with 
one  hand  a  sack  of  wheat,  and  he  played  with  an  anvil 
as  a  toy. 

At  the  age  of  twenty,  he  was  as  well-formed  and  as 
strong  as  the  Colossus  of  Rhodes. 

His  strength  became  proverbial  in  the  country.  All 
wrestlers  feared  him;  for  none  could  withstand  his 
feats  in  the  ring.  With  one  hand  he  would  seize  his 
opponent  and  hold  him  at  arm's  length  for  a  long  time, 
then  he  would  whirl  him  about  his  head  until  he  cried 
"  King's  truce! "  when  he  would  stretch  him  at  full 
length  on  the  ground.  There  was  not  his  equal  in  the 
country. 


74  Tales  of  Languedoc 

When  he  had  attained  to  manhood,  he  started  on  a  long 
journey  to  visit  the  villages  and  towns  of  France.  He 
saw  Lyons,  Marseilles,  Nimes,  and  was  on  his  way  to  Bor 
deaux,  traveling  on  .foot,  with  a  big  axle-tree  for  a  cane, 
when  he  reached  the  little  village  of  Fontanes.  There 
he  took  his  dinner,  visited  an  old  castle  belonging  to  the 
Lieutenant-General  of  the  King's  army,  and,  at  one 
o'clock,  he  set  out  for  the  village  of  Lecques,  which  is 
perched  on  a  rock  on  the  right  bank  of  the  River  Le 
Vidourle. 

The  owner  of  the  castle  of  Fontanes  was  a  powerful 
lord,  to  whom  the  villagers  owed  obedience.  He  could 
command  them  in  season  and  out  of  season.  Was  his 
woodyard  empty,  a  word  from  his  steward  brought  twenty 
loads  of  wood;  was  his  ice-house  empty,  the  peasants 
were  set  to  work  cutting  ice  on  the  river  and  packing  it 
for  the  summer  use  of  his  lordship.  During  seed-time, 
they  had  to  turn  out  with  their  teams,  and  plow,  harrow, 
and  sow  his  lordship's  broad  acres. 

When  Crowbar  reached  Fontanes  it  was  seed-time 
and  the  peasants  were  at  work  sowing  the  grain  in  a  large 
field  on  a  cross-road  leading  to  Lecques.  Some  of  the 
peasants  were  ploughing,  some  harrowing,  some  sowing 
the  grain,  some  were  singing,  others  swearing  at  their 
teams  or  goading  their  oxen.  Among  them  was  a 
ploughman  with  a  gray  mule  as  lazy  as  his  master,  and 
following  behind  was  his  son,  a  lad  of  ten,  cracking  the 
whip  once  in  a  while  on  the  mule's  back. 


Three   Strong   Men  75 

Old  Dumas,  for  that  was  the  ploughman's  name,  was 
singing  in  a  tremulous  voice  with  a  Gallic  accent: 

I  was  sitting  the  oak  boughs  below, 

I  saw  bustling  toward  me  my  love, 
>T  was  Clarissa  looking  for  her  beau, 

Took  me  for  him,  bounced  into  my  lap. 

(Interrupting  himself).  "  Get  up  Falet !  hit  him  hard, 
boy." 

If  you  love  me  be  not  proud, 

If  you  love  me  why  so  haughty? 
Time  is  past  to  play  at  scorn, 

When  one's  promised  then  't  is  naughty. 

"  Get  up,  Falet;  that  hole  won't  swallow  you  up;  get 
up!" 

Not  far  behind  ploughed  another  big  tall  fellow  with 
a  beard  touching  the  ground.  He  was  nicknamed 
Hookbeard  on  account  of  his  beard  turning  up  at  the 
end.  He  was  a  man  of  extraordinary  strength,  for  he 
could  lift  almost  any  weight  which  one  might  tie  to  his 
beard. 

He  was  ploughing  with  a  yoke  of  oxen  and  was  sing 
ing  the  song  of  the  ploughman : 

When  the  ploughman  ends  the  furrow 
Then  he  throws  aside  his  ploughshare. 

When  the  ploughman  ends  the  furrow 
Then  he  throws  aside  his  ploughshare; 
His  ploughshare. 

He  finds  his  wife  beside  the  fire, 

Sad  and  inconsolable. 
He  finds  his  wife  beside  the  fire, 

Sad  and  inconsolable; 

Sad  and  inconsolable. 


76  Tales  of  Languedoc 

If  you  are  sick,  tell  me, 

I  will  make  for  you  a  pottage; 
If  you  are  sick,  tell  me, 

I  will  make  for  you  a  pottage; 
A  pottage. 

A  pottage  with  a  cabbage 

And  a  lean  sparrow. 
A  pottage  with  a  cabbage 

And  a  lean  sparrow; 

A  lean  sparrow. 

If  you  are  dead,  say  so, 
We  will  bury  you  in  the  wine-vault. 

If  you  are  dead,  say  so, 
We  will  bury  you  in  the  wine-vault; 
In  the  wine-vault. 

Your  head  under  the  faucet 

To  drink  as  it  flows. 
Your  head  under  the  faucet 

To  drink  as  it  flows; 

To  drink  as  it  flows. 

As  Crowbar  appeared  at  the  crossroad,  Hookbeard 
was  at  the  end  of  the  furrow. 

"Well,  neighbor,  the  plough  must  run  easy  since  the 
ploughman  is  singing,"  said  Crowbar. 

"  Well,"  replied  Hookbeard,  "  sometimes  easy,  and 
sometimes  hard ;  but  withal  time  flies.  We  are  working 
for  the  lord  of  the  manor ;  we  receive  no  pay ;  we  need 
not  kill  ourselves." 

And  from  one  thing  to  another  the  talk  ran  on.  Crow 
bar,  meanwhile,  was  toying  with  his  axle,  as  one  would 
with  a  cane.  When  about  to  start,  he  said,  swinging  his 
axle  as  a  pointer  to  show  off  his  strength,  "  which  road 
goes  to  Lecques ?  This  one  or  that?" 


Three   Strong   Men 


77 


Hookbeard's  face  grew  purple  as  a  poppy,  and  seizing 
the  ploughbeam  with  one  hand,  he  raised  it  from  the 
furrow,  oxen  and  all,  so  that  to  Crowbar  they  seemed  to 
fly.  He  swung  them  in  the  air  in  the  right  direction* 
and  said: 


"  Take  this  road ; "  and  let  them  down  easy  in  the  fur 
row  again. 

"  "Why,"  said  Crowbar,  "  I  should  say  you  have  a  pow 
erful  wrist,  my  good  fellow.  I  have  traveled  extensively 
and  seen  many  strong  men ;  but  I  have  yet  to  find  your 
equal.  If  you  like,"  added  he :  "  We  will  become  part 
ners,  and  together  make  the  tour  of  France." 


78  Tales  of  Languedoc 

"  I  am  willing,"  replied  Hookbeard ;  "  but  I  have  no 
money,  and  to  travel  one  needs  money." 

"  Do  n't  let  that  hinder  you,"  said  Crowbar,  "  I  have 
enough  for  both.  Besides,  we  can  earn  some  on  the 
way." 

Hookbeard,  without  further  parley,  left  his  oxen  in 
the  furrow,  and  arm-in-arm  with  Crowbar  set  out  for 
Lecques. 

Lecques  is  built  on  a  rock  on  the  right  bank  of  the 
river  Le  Vidourle. 

To  reach  the  village  the  stream  must  be  crossed  by 
ferry-boat.  When  the  two  men  reached  the  left  bank  of 
the  river,  the  boat  was  on  the  other  side,  and  no  ferry 
man  in  sight.  They  shouted  and  roared,  but  nobody 
heard.  It  was  the  hottest  part  of  the  day,  and  no  doubt 
the  Lecquars  were  all  asleep. 

"  What  shall  we  do  ?  "  said  Crowbar  to  his  companion ; 
"shall  we  wait  here  until  somebody  comes  to  the  river  "? 

"  Not  much ! "  exclaimed  the  other ;  "just  hang  to  my 
whiskers,  and  you  '11  be  quickly  over." 

Crowbar  put  his  axle  under  his  arm,  seized  his 
friend's  beard  with  both  hands,  and  with  a  swing  and  a 
jerk,  Hookbeard  sent  him  flying  over  the  stream.  Crow 
bar  landed  on  his  feet,  went  to  the  boat,  unfastened  it, 
rowed  across  the  river,  and  ferried  over  his  friend. 

After  making  the  boat  fast,  they  set  out  towards  the 
gristmill,  below  the  village,  in  hope  of  finding  somebody. 

The  miller  had  just  dined,  and  to  work  off  his  dinner, 


Three  Strong  Men  81 

was  playing  quoits  with  his  millstones  on  the  sand. 
When  Hookbeard  and  Crowbar  saw  the  miller,  they 
exclaimed : 

"  Here  is  a  man  as  strong  as  we ;  let  us  invite  him  to 
join  us.  All  three  together  we  could  defy  the  world." 

They  approached,  and  politely  complimented  the 
miller  on  his  strength;  and,  by  way  of  introduction, 
they  each  picked  up  a  millstone. 

The  miller  delighted  to  find  his  equals,  invited  them 
in,  treated  them  to  wine,  and  they  talked  of  their  ex 
ploits,  each  making  as  big  a  story  as  possible.  When 
they  had  drunk  and  rested  enough,  Crowbar  said  to  the 
miller : 

"  I  have  traveled  much,  hoping  to  find  men  as  strong 
as  I,  but  have  seen  none  until  to-day  I  met  Hookbeard, 
and  he  has  consented  to  go  with  me.  Why  should  you 
not  come  too?  We  three  should  have  nothing  to  fear. 
Won't  you  come  ?  " 

The  miller  was  much  attached  to  his  mill,  and  asked 
time  to  make  up  his  mind. 

"  Stay  until  to-morrow  with  me,"  he  said ,  "  have  a 
good  supper  and  a  night's  rest,  then  I  will  give  you  my 
decision." 

An  expert  at  fishing,  he  soon  caught  fish  enough  for 
supper,  and  the  feast  was  spread,  the  best  wine  brought 
out,  and  at  the  height  of  the  feast  the  miller  anticipated 
his  answer,  and  agreed  to  go  with  them. 

Early  next  morning  they  took  a  bite  to  stay  their 


82  Tales  of  Languedoc 

stomachs,  and  were  about  to  start  on  their  journey,  when 
the  miller  said  to  his  companions : 

"I  will  take  my  millstones  with  me;  when  we  have 
nothing  better  to  do,  we  can  have  a  game  of  quoits." 

"  Quite  right,"  both  replied  at  once ;  "  take  them 
along." 

The  miller  closed  his  mill,  placed  the  key  under  the 
door,  took  a  millstone  under  each  arm,  and  off  they  went. 

They  worked  their  way  towards  Montpelier,  passed 
La  Fontade,  climbed  the  hill  of  La  Pefia,  crossed  the 
woods  of  La  Clause,  reached  St.  Beauzeli,  and  wherever 
they  went  they  performed  feats  of  strength. 

People  were  surprised  to  see  such  powerful  men,  one 
with  a  beard  trailing  the  ground,  another  with  an 
immense  axle-tree  for  a  cane,  and  a  third  with  millstones 
in  his  pockets.  Children  swarmed  about  them,  and  fol 
lowed  them  through  the  streets. 

One  evening  at  an  inn  they  were  telling  of  their 
exploits  to  the  villagers,  exaggerating  their  performances 
and  boasting  of  their  bravery.  One  of  the  listeners  spoke 
up,  and  said : 

"  If  you  Iiave  the  courage  you  claim,  you  ought  to 
render  me  a  service." 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  said  the  three,  all  at  once. 

"  In  the  loft  of  my  barn,  at  about  two  every  morning, 
something  runs  over  the  floor,  and  there  is  a  noise  like 
the  dragging  of  chains.  My  men  pretend  that  a  dragon 
haunts  the  barn;  they  saw  him  one  night,  they  say,  and 


Three   Strong   Men  85 

after  nightfall  they  cannot  be  induced  to  enter  the  barn, 
much  less  to  sleep  in  the  loft.  If  you  would  spend  a 
night  there,  find  out  the  cause  of  alarm  and,  perhaps, 
kill  the  dragon,  then  my  men  would  attend  to  their 
evening  chores  and  sleep  in  the  loft,  as  they  used  to  do." 

The  trio  replied  they  would  be  glad  to  do  as  much 
for  him  and,  proud  of  the  occasion,  they  set  out  for  the 
barn. 

Crowbar  said  :  "  There  is  no  need  of  three ;  give  my 
companions  a  room.  I  will  stay  alone  in  the  barn,  and 
will  call  you  if  I  need  help."  So  the  miller  and  Hook- 
beard,  who  had  not  the  courage  of  Crowbar,  were  glad 
to  sleep  in  the  house. 

When  Crowbar  was  alone  he  examined  every  nook  of 
the  loft,  and  the  heaps  of  fodder  upon  the  floor,  to  make 
sure  that  nothing  was  hidden  there.  He  looked  out  of 
the  windows,  and  found  that  one  opened  upon  the  vil 
lage  green,  the  other  looked  out  upon  a  neighbor's  yard, 
and  was  only  six  feet  from  the  ground,  the  barn  being  on 
sloping  ground.  This  window  he  could  not  fasten ;  it 
had  been  always  left  open  for  ventilation.  Crowbar 
threw  himself  upon  the  straw,  but  not  to  sleep.  Hardly 
had  an  hour  passed  when  he  heard  a  noise  at  the  open 
window.  He  raised  on  one  elbow,  and  listened.  The 
sound  approached,  as  if  some  creature  was  walking  on 
the  boards  with  heavy  nailed  shoes  or  hard  hoofs,  he 
could  not  tell  which.  At  the  same  time  there  was  the 
clank,  clank,  of  a  chain  dragged  by  jerks  on  the  floor.  It 


86  Tales  of  Languedoc 

came  still  nearer,  and  Crowbar  sprang  towards  it  with  a 
shout. 

"  So,  dragon,  here  you  are,  hey!  Oust  me  from  this 
barn,  if  you  can !  " 

The  object  turned,  and  went  tearing  through  the  barn, 
Crowbar  after  it.  The  chase  began;  the  racket  roused 
the  village,  the  two  climbed  the  haymow,  and  leaped 
from  one  stack  to  another ;  they  vaulted  over  each  other, 
and  fell  in  a  heap  on  the  floor;  they  sprang  up  and 
clattered  like  mad  through  the  barn  again.  The  noise 
was  terrific, —  it  lasted  twenty  minutes.  At  last,  by 
mere  luck,  Crowbar  stepped  on  the  chain,  stooping,  he 
quickly  seized  it,  and,  with  a  powerful  jerk,  he  got  the 
creature  within  grasp.  He  laid  firm  hold  of  it  with  both 
arms,  muttering  to  himself: 

"  Dragon  though  ye  be,  down  with  ye! "  and  he  flung 
it  out  the  window  on  to  the  village  green. 

The  peasants,  who  were  outside  listening  to  the  racket, 
rushed  in,  and  found  Crowbar  in  a  dripping  sweat. 

"  I  do  not  know  what  sort  of  beast  it  is,"  said  he, "  but 
it  has  led  me  a  chase,  I  can  assure  you." 

"  Let  us  see  what  it  is,"  and  they  rushed  out  into  the 
square,  and  found, —  you  cannot  guess, —  a  goat!  A  goat 
burst  asunder  by  the  fall ! 

And  this  is  its  story :  The  owner  of  the  goat  had  no 
fodder,  so  every  night  he  let  the  goat  loose.  She,  with  a 
bound,  leaped  into  the  neighbor's  loft,  by  the  open  win 
dow,  and  fed  all  night  on  the  hay 


Three   Strong   Men  87 

Evil-doers  are  often  caught  in  their  own  traps.  If  the 
man  had  not  left  the  chain  on  the  goat,  to  make  the 
frightful  clatter,  he  might  not  have  been  betrayed. 

Next  morning,  when  the  story  spread  abroad  in  the 
village,  everybody  said  that  is  just  like  him,  shiftless 
fellow ;  that  is  one  of  his  old  tricks.  And,  from  that  day, 
none  of  them  would  have  anything  to  do  with  the  unfor 
tunate  loser  of  the  goat. 

The  owner  of  the  barn,  well  pleased  with  the  outcome 
of  the  adventure,  entertained  the  three  strong  men  roy 
ally.  He  gave  a  public  feast  in  their  honor,  and,  in  the 
presence  of  all  the  dignitaries  of  the  village,  he  thanked 
them  for  their  services,  and,  from  that  time  on,  he  kept 
his  barn-door  and  windows  locked. 

Meanwhile,  the  fame  of  the  three  strong  men  was  ever 
widening. 

Farther  up  the  mountain  lived  a  rich  gentleman  in 
an  old  castle.  He  had  been  a  merchant,  had  amassed  a 
fortune  in  commerce,  and  wishing  to  retire  with  his 
family,  had  bought  the  castle  with  large  estates,  and  had 
it  repaired  and  fitted  up  to  his  taste. 

On  the  first  floor  was  drawing-room,  boudoirs,  din 
ing-room,  and  kitchen.  The  sleeping-rooms  of  the 
family  were  on  the  second  floor,  and  the  third  floor  was 
given  up  to  the  servants. 

Almost  all  the  windows  had  gratings.  The  tower,  or 
ancient  keep,  on  the  western  corner  of  the  castle,  was 
left  unrepaired,  as  it  was  not  needed.  The  doors  had 


88  Tales  of  Languedoc 

the  old  rusty  locks,  and  the  windows  were  not  fastened 
at  all,  excepting  in  stormy  weather. 

On  the  second  floor,  between  the  master's  room  and 
the  tower,  was  a  room  daintily  furnished  and  prepared 
for  the  daughter  when  she  should  come  home  from  her 
convent. 

At  the  castle  nothing  was  lacking.  There  were  car 
riages  of  all  sorts;  equipages  on  equipages;  servants  on 
servants;  horses  of  all  breeds,  for  the  carriage  and  for 
the  saddle.  Besides  there  were  two  immense  New 
Foundland  dogs,  named  Sultan  and  Mustafa.  Sultan 
was  fat  and  black,  and  Mustafa  was  lean  and  red.  They 
were  tied  by  day  and  loosed  by  night. 

When  the  merchant  came  to  live  on  his  domain  early 
in  May,  the  country  was  beautiful  to  see.  The  trees 
were  in  full  bloom,  and  the  meadows  a  magnificent  green. 
Half  way  up  the  Cevennes,  they  had  the  mountain  air 
first  hand ;  it  was  neither  hot  nor  cold,  and  too  far  from 
the  marshes  for  mosquitoes. 

The  gentleman  was  all  delight  with  his  new  posses 
sions,  and  nothing  was  lacking  but  the  presence  of  his 
daughter. 

So  he  looked  forward  to  her  vacation  when  she  should 
come  and  regain  strength  and  spirits  in  the  pleasures  of 
outdoor  life  at  the  castle.  And  you  should  have  seen 
the  reception  they  gave  her  the  day  she  came. 

The  whole  household  was  on  foot  to  receive  her,  but 
none  welcomed  her  more  warmly  than  the  old  bonne 


Three   Strong   Men  89 

Jeaneton,  who  had  brought  her  up  since  her  mother 
died  in  childhood.  Her  first  evening  at  the  castle  was 
one  of  festivity.  Joy  and  happiness  were  seen  on  all 
faces. 

Bedtime  came,  they  all  wished  the  young  mistress 
good  night,  and  Jeaneton  took  her  to  her  beautiful  cham 
ber,  the  furniture  and  appointments  of  which  were  fit 
for  a  queen.  The  dogs  were  let  loose,  the  doors  closed, 
the  lights  put  out,  and  all  about  the  castle  was  soon 
silent  and  dark.  The  young  Miss  was  soon  asleep,  so 
were  the  others  of  the  household. 

About  midnight  the  girl  felt  something  pressing  on 
her  feet.  She  thought  she  was  dreaming.  But  no ;  she 
was  not  dreaming.  Something  heavy  and  warm  was  on 
her  feet.  She  heard  it  breathing.  Fear  seized  her. 
Had  she  cried,  her  father  in  the  next  room  would  have 
come  to  her  rescue.  But  no  ;  she  kept  still,  covered  her 
head  with  the  sheet,  and  stayed  thus  without  stirring 
the  whole  night.  It  was  enough  to  frighten  one  to  death, 
but  when  one's  time  has  not  come,  it  takes  more  than 
that  to  kill  one. 

A  little  before  daybreak,  she  felt  something  rise,  heard 
it  jump  from  the  bed,  and  leave  the  room  quietly.  You 
may  well  imagine  how  impatient  she  was  for  daylight 
to  come. 

At  breakfast  she  appeared  pale,  distracted,  with  black 
rings  under  her  eyes,  telling  the  tale  of  a  sleepless 
night. 


90  Tales  of  Languedoc 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you,  my  child,"  inquired 
her  father,  "  have  you  not  slept  well  ?  " 

She  fell  on  his  neck,  and  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  told 
him  of  her  great  fright.  Her  father,  much  surprised 
and  greatly  pained,  said  to  her :  "  My  child  do  not 
divulge  this  to  any  one,  I  shall  find  means  to  discover 
the  cause  of  your  fright;  and  if 'the  servants  heard  of 
this  not  one  of  them  would  stay  at  the  castle." 

They  kept  it  secret,  and  under  a  pretext,  induced  old 
Jeaneton  to  occupy  the  room.  The  first  night  the  old 
nurse  slept  in  the  beautiful  chamber,  the  master  took 
pulns  himself  to  lock  the  doors  and  windows,  and  even 
fastened  the  windows  of  the  old  tower. 

The  next  morning  father  and  daughter  were  dying  to 
know  how  she  spent  the  night. 

"  Oh !  I  slept  as  sound  as  a  top,"  said  she ;  "  why 
should  I  not,  in  so  fine  a  room  and  such  a  soft  bed  ?  " 

For  some  time  the  master  attended  to  closing  the 
doors  and  windows  himself;  but,  at  length,  as  nothing 
disturbed  old  Jeaneton,  he  grew  careless,  and  left  the 
tower  window  open. 

One  early  morning  Jeaneton  rushed  into  her  young 
mistress'  room  quaking  with  terror,  and  told  her  that  a 
strange  animal  had  lain  on  her  feet  during  the  night ;  she 
had  heard  it  breathing  heavily,  but  it  had  left  before 
dawn,  and  she  could  not  tell  what  it  was. 

The  father  was  notified,  and  again,  on  account  of  the 
servants,  they  all  agreed  to  keep  the  affair  secret. 


Three   Strong   Men  91 

About  this  time  the  fame  of  the  Three  Strong  Men 
reached  them,  and  the  owner  of  the  castle  set  out  to 
fetch  them.  He  brought  them  to  his  house  as  guests. 
Crowbar  offered  to  occupy  the  room,  but  Hookbeard 
insisted  that  it  was  his  turn,  pompously  adding :  "  If  die 
I  must,  ready  I  am."  So  it  was  decided  for  him  to  have 
the  first  chance  at  the  beast.  The  servants  were,  to  be 
sure,  surprised  to  see  a  man  with  such  a  beard  about  to 
sleep  in  the  dainty  bed  of  the  young  mistress,  but  they 
kept  their  comments  to  themselves. 

Hookbeard  spread  himself  out  on  the  pretty  bed,  and 
thought: 

"  Ghost  or  devil  that  haunts  this  room,  I  admire  your 
taste;  you  have  not  badly  chosen  your  couch." 

Wiser,  however,  than  the  nurse  and  her  mistress,  he 
did  not  go  to  sleep. 

At  the  moment  of  expectation,  he  heard  a  sound  like 
an  animal  moving  in  the  room  and  scenting.  He 
stretched  his  hand,  felt  a  cold  nose,  a  head,  a  tongue  that 
licked  his  hand. 

"  If  all  the  ghosts,  devils,  and  dragons  are  no 
worse  than  this  one.,"  thought  Hookbeard,  "they  are 
not  to  be  feared."  And,  patting  the  animal,  they 
became  friends ;  so  much  so,  that  they  spent  the  night 
together,  the  beast  with  its  head  in  Hookbeard's 
arms. 

What  a  surprise  to  the  master  it  was  when  he  came 
into  the  room  in  the  morning  to  find  the  long-bearded 


92  Tales  of  Languedoc 

fellow  stretched  out,  and  in  his  arms  the  head  of  the  dog, 
Mustafa. 

Quickly  he  brought  his  daughter  and  Jeaneton  to  see 
the  devil  of  their  midnight  terror. 

How  could  the  dog  have  got  in? 

Leaning  against  the  old  tower,  just  below  one  of  its 
windows,  was  a  low  shed.  At  night,  when  the  dogs  were 
let  loose,  Mustafa  found  nothing  easier  than  to  jump  on 
the  roof  of  the  shed,  from  thence  through  the  tower 
window,  and  from  the  tower  into  the  young  lady's 
room. 

It  is  not  known  whether  Mustafa  dreaded  the  night's 
dew  on  account  of  rheumatism,  but  evidently  he  pre 
ferred  to  sleep  on  a  soft  bed  to  spending  his  night  under 
the  beautiful  stars  in  the  court. 

Overjoyed,  the  owner  of  the  castle  complimented 
Hookbeard  for  his  bravery,  gave  the  Three  Strong  Men 
a  handsome  reward,  entertained  them  two  or  three  days, 
and,  on  taking  leave  of  them,  said  : 

"  I  have  a  friend  who  lives  not  far  from  Alais,  in  the 
castle  of  La  Ferriere;  I  believe  he  needs  you." 

"  Let  us  go  at  once,"  said  the  three ;  "  what  can  he 
need  us  for  ?  " 

"  He  will  tell  you,"  replied  the  gentleman ;  "  tell  him 
I  have  sent  you." 

Thereupon  they  set  out,  with  paunches  and  pockets, 
full,  a  jolly  set  of  rovers.  They  walked  for  many  days 
and,  finally,  about  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning  of  a  fine 


Three  Strong   Men  93 

October  day,  they  reached  the  lodge  of  La  Ferriere. 
They  sounded  the  knocker,  and  presented  their  request 
to  meet  the  master  of  the  castle.  The  servant,  in  a  great 
state  of  alarm,  rushed  in  upon  the  master  while  he  was 
shaving,  with  the  news  that  three  tremendous  fellows, 
the  sight  of  which  was  enough  to  frighten  any  one,  were 
waiting  in  the  office  to  see  him.  One  carried  an  axle- 
tree  as  a  cane,  another  had  a  mill-stone  in  each  coat 
pocket,  and  the  third  wore  a  beard  that  touched  the 
ground  and  turned  up  at  the  end  ;  they  were  three  verit 
able  Samsons. 

"  What  do  they  want  ?  "  said  the  Marquis. 

"  On  my  word  I  do  not  know ;  they  only  asked  to 
speak  with  you." 

"  I  will  be  down  presently  ;  tell  them  to  wait."  One 
moment  later  the  Marquis  entered  his  office  and  was 
surprised,  in  spite  of  his  warning,  to  see  such  powerful 
looking  fellows. 

Our  three  men  bowed  respectfully,  told  of  their 
adventures  at  the  castle  in  the  Cevennes,  and  offered  to 
rid  the  Marquis  of  any  beast  or  devil  that  might  disturb 
his  peace. 

"  I  will  give  you  a  great  reward,"  replied  the  Mar 
quis,  "  if  you  can  rid  me  of  an  enemy  that  has  long 
damaged  my  place,  and  especially  is  the  cause  of 
my  wife  and  children  remaining  away  from  the 
castle." 

"  I  cannot  keep  a  servant  here  except  this  old  man 


94  Tales  of  Languedoc 

who  has  positively  refused  to  leave  me  in  spite  of  the 
evil  reports." 

"  It  is  said  in  the  neighborhood  that  the  devil  haunts 
my  castle  and  everybody  keeps  away  from  it." 

"  I  do  not  know  the  cause,  but,  from  time  to  time  I 
miss  some  chickens,  rabbits,  turkeys  and  geese;  even 
once  I  lost  an  ox.  "We  have  searched  again  and  again, 
but  without  results.  I  have  watched  day  and  night  and 
never  have  seen  a  stray  man  or  beast  on  the  premises, 
yet,  when  least  expecting  it,  something  is  stolen.  Some 
of  the  servants  have  been  badly  beaten  when  alone; 
taken  unawares,  struck  from,  behind,  but  even  they  have 
never  seen  the  enemy." 

"  This  is  why  I  can  keep  no  one  at  my  castle  and  they 
say  it  is  the  devil's  abode.  Now,  if  you  can  find  out 
what  all  this  means,  you  will  render  a  great  service  to 
me  and  the  community." 

"  Be  no  longer  uneasy,"  they  said,  "  we  shall  unravel 
the  mystery  and  that  right  soon.  Make  us  acquainted 
with  every  nook  of  your  castle,  your  garden,  your  park, 
and  then  we  will  tell  you  how  we  intend  to  proceed." 

The  Marquis  first  invited  them  to  dine.  After  dinner 
he  took  them  through  the  castle  from  cellar  to  garret  and 
over  the  garden  and  park  even  to  a  clump  of  trees  be 
yond  the  park.  The  Marquis  meanwhile  was  giving 
them  all  kinds  of  information,  but  the  three  said  not  a 
word.  Silently  they  surveyed  the  ground,  scrutinized 
the  nooks  and  corners,  peering  into  the  shrubbery,  rak- 


Three  Strong   Men  95 

ing  among  the  heaps  of  dead  leaves  and  striking  the 
ground  in  search  of  pitfalls. 

When  the  search  was  over  they  proposed  to  the  Mar 
quis  that  they  be  left  alone  in  charge  of  the  castle  to 
follow  their  own  line  of  action.  The  Marquis  agreed 
and  accordingly  prepared  to  leave  the  estate  in  their 
charge  with  abundant  supplies  at  their  disposal,  and  he 
and  the  old  servant  left  next  morning. 

Crowbar  and  his  friends  took  a  walk  in  the  afternoon, 
looked  about  everywhere,  but  saw  nothing  suspicious. 
The  following  day  they  laid  a  plan  to  station  themselves 
as  spies  to  watch  every  avenue  leading  to  the  castle  and 
they  watched  all  day  in  vain.  The  next  day  was  the 
same  without  results.  This  was  growing  monotonous; 
they  became  bolder  and  said :  "  The  devil  must  be  afraid 
of  us;  he  dares  not  show  himself.  This  will  turn  out 
like  other  devil  stories;  the  fox  has  eaten  the  hens,  the 
wolf  eaten  the  ox  —  you  will  see  —  nevertheless  if  it  be 
the  devil  let  him  show  himself,  we  will  fix  him." 

Thus,  tired  of  suspense,  they  decided  that  two  of  them 
should  go  hunting  and  the  third  should  keep  watch  on 
the  premises,  just  to  be  on  the  safe  side,  not  that  they 
expected  to  see  anything  or  anybody. 

This  time  the  miller  said :  "  It  is  my  turn;  I  will  stay 
and  if  the  devil  comes,  I  will  make  a  pancake  of  him 
with  my  millstones." 

"  Remain,"  said  the  other  two ;  "  each  one  his  turn, 
nothing  is  more  just."  Crowbar  and  Hookbeard  started 


96  Tales  of  Languedoc 

for  the  chase  at  day-break,  their  guns  on  their  shoulders 
like  true  poachers.  They  went  through  the  park,  passed 
by  the  clump  of  trees,  crossed  a  small  stream  and  went 
on  to  the  mountains.  They  were  in  luck,  they  killed 
much  game  and  returned  with  their  bags  full. 

As  soon  as  his  companions  were  gone,  the  miller 
placed  himself  on  the  watch  but  as  before  saw  nothing. 
Then  he  set  about  preparing  dinner  for  his  friends 
What  he  cooked  for  the  meal  I  do  not  remember,  per 
haps  they  never  told  me  or  I  may  have  forgotten  it,  but 
that  can  be  of  no  great  consequence. 

About  eleven  o'clock  he  set  the  table  and  had  things 
ready  so  as  not  to  keep  them  waiting  on  their  return, 
then  he  sat  down  before  the  door  saying  to  himself:  "As 
soon  as  I  see  them  coming  I  will  pour  out  the  pottage." 
He  waited  a  long  while,  his  comrades  did  not  show  up; 
it  was  very  hot;  sleep  overtook  him  and  he  fell  nodding. 

The  devil,  who  was  lurking  unseen,  stealthily  ap 
proached  the  table,  took  the  tablecloth  by  the  four 
corners  with  all  its  contents,  spoons,  forks,  dishes,  bottles, 
glasses,  etc.,  clubbed  the  miller  on  his  way  out  and  left 
him  senseless. 

A  little  while  after,  the  hunters  came,  and  what  did 
they  see? 

The  poor  miller  stretched  on  the  ground,  his  face  all 
bloody,  more  dead  than  alive.  Quickly  they  fetched 
some  vinegar,  made  him  smell  it,  washed  his  face  with 
it,  and  made  him  drink  a  glass  of  Riquiqui,  placed  him 


Three   Strong   Men  97 

in  an  arm-chair,  rubbed  him  with  Eau  Sedative,  and, 
little  by  little,  he  came  to,  but  he  could  not  tell  what  had 
happened.  He  had  neither  heard  nor  seen  anything,  so 
that  the  trio  were  none  the  wiser  for  the  miller's  mishap. 
For  some  time,  however,  they  redoubled  their  vigils,  but 
with  no  luck. 

Meanwhile,  the  miller  recovered,  and,  when  himself 
again,  Hookbeard  broke  out  one  evening  at  table  with 
"Well,  friends,  go  hunting  to-morrow.  I  shall  stay 
here.  We  must  find  out  what  all  this  means.  I  will  try 
my  best  not  to  be  surprised;  and,  if  I  can  only  see  him, 
whether  man,  beast,  or  devil,  he  won't  leave  this  place 
scot  free." 

The  next  day  the  miller  and  Crowbar  went  hunting, 
promising  to  return  early. 

Hookbeard  made  all  his  preparations, — killed  a  fowl 
for  a  roast,  made  an  omelette  for  entremet,  a  rabbit  stew 
for  entree,  a  puree  of  peas  for  pottage,  and  fritters  of 
squash  for  dessert.  He  set  the  table  early ;  then  he 
walked  about  the  room,  with  his  hands  behind  him  and 
with  a  look  of  satisfaction  and  scorn  upon  his  face,  as  if 
nothing  could  happen  to  him.  He  paced  the  room  for 
one  hour,  for  two  hours;  finally  got  tired,  and,  to  his 
misfortune,  sat  down. 

Sleep  is  so  treacherous  that  it  overcame  him.  No 
sooner  had  he  closed  his  eyes  and  begun  to  nod,  than  he 
was  clubbed  on  the  head,  and  so  completely  stunned  that 
he  gave  no  signs  of  life  when  his  two  friends  came.  They 


98  Tales  of   Languedoc 

thought  him  dead,  but  did  all  they  could  to  revive  him, 
and  at  last  succeeded. 

He  was  a  long  time  recovering.  It  took  the  good  care 
of  his  two  comrades,  a  long  rest,  and  good  food  to  restore 
him  to  health. 

When  Hookbeard  was  on  his  feet  again,  Crowbar 
said : 

"  My  friends,  both  of  you  have  had  your  thrashing. 
We  cannot  leave  here  without  my  getting  one.  If  I  have 
to  leave  rny  skin  in  the  attempt,  I  must  know  who  is 
haunting  this  place.  To-morrow  leave  me  alone  in  the 
castle  and  go  hunting." 

They  obeyed ;  but  before  setting  out  Hookbeard  said 
to  Crowbar : 

"  Don't  go  to  sleep;  don't  sit  down.  Sleep  is  a  rascal 
which  overcomes  the  most  wary.  If  you  are  caught  nap 
ping,  as  the  miller  and  I  have  been,  you  run  the  risk  of 
getting  a  drubbing  you  will  never  forget." 

"  Thanks,"  replied  Crowbar;  "  I  will  do  my  best  to 
keep  awake." 

When  alone,  he  set  out  to  get  dinner.  It  was  not  at 
all  elaborate,  and  was  soon  ready.  Before  ten  o'clock  his 
table  was  set,  and  he  was  pacing  the  floor,  as  Hookbeard 
had  done.  Then  he  sat  down;  soon  his  head  was 
bobbing  up  and  down,  falling  from  one  shoulder  to  the 
other,  as  if  fast  asleep.  Through  his  half-closed  eyes, 
however,  he  was  watching  the  room  and  the  park. 

Pretty  soon  he  spied  in  the  garden  something  black, 


Three   Strong   Men  101 

which  seemed  to  be  moving  behind  the  trees.  Nodding 
all  the  more,  as  if  fast  asleep,  Crowbar  saw  the  black 
object  advancing  cautiously  from  tree  to  tree,  and  bush 
to  bush,  but  so  quick  in  its  movements  that  he  could 
hardly  make  out  its  shape ;  its  general  appearance  was 
like  this : 

A  black  body,  flat  face,  large,  round,  yellowish  eyes, 
which  shone  like  a  cat's  in  the  dark,  two  horns,  short  and 
sharp,  a  long  tail,  curled  up  to  its  shoulders,  thin  legs, 
and  long  hands,  with  fingers  like  a  griffin's,  and  it  was 
not  more  than  three  feet  high. 

Crowbar  understood  that  it  was  the  very  devil  that 
was  the  fear  of  the  neighborhood. 

Before  he  sat  down  he  had  been  careful  to  place  his 
axle-tree  within  reach.  Thus  prepared,  he  awaited  the 
approach. 

The  devil,  no  doubt,  believed  him  asleep,  approached 
noiselessly,  entered  the  room,  went  to  the  table,  and 
reached  for  the  table-cloth.  Crowbar  sprang  to  his  feet, 
and  struck  at  him.  The  devil,  ever  on  the  alert,  had 
seen  Crowbar's  motion,  and  turned  to  leap  out  of  the 
window.  It  was  lucky  for  him  that  he  turned  round 
when  he  did.  He  was  too  far  to  be  hit  on  the  head,  but 
received  a  blow  between  the  shoulders  from  Crowbar's 
axle-tree,  that  sent  him  sprawling  in  the  yard. 

Nimbly  he  turned  a  somersault,  was  on  his  feet  in  a 
flash,  and  made  for  the  park.  Crowbar  gave  chase. 
The  devil  fairly  flew,  with  Crowbar  close  behind.  They 


IO2  Tales  of  Languedoc 

ran  from  alley  to  alley,  from  avenue  to  avenue;  they 
went  through  the  park,  and  round  and  round  it.  No 
doubt,  the  devil,  seeing  his  pursuer  to  be  such  a  big 
fellow,  thought  to  tire  him  out,  leave  him  behind, 
find  his  hole,  and  disappear;  but  Crowbar  gained  on 
him,  and  struck  him  several  times  between  the  shoulder- 
blades  with  his  axle-tree;  so  the  devil  thought  best  to 
seek  his  hole,  even  at  the  risk  of  revealing  his  hiding, 
place. 

Running  then  to  the  clump  of  trees,  under  a  wild 
laurel,  he  lifted  a  large,  flat  stone,  and  disappeared  from 
under  the  very  nose  of  Crowbar,  at  the  very  moment  he 
thought  he  had  him. 

Crowbar  examined  the  hole,  replaced  the  stone,  put 
his  cane  over  it  to  hold  it  down,  and  returned  to  the 
castle,  sweating  like  a  leper,  from  his  run. 

The  hunters  were  already  there.  As  they  did  not  see 
him,  they  said  he  must  be  dead. 

"  Indeed,"  said  the  miller,  "  the  devil  struck  me  once; 
you  got  a  first-rate  thrashing;  no  doubt,  he  has  killed 
Crowbar." 

They  feigned  the  greatest  distress;  they  rang  all  the 
bells ;  they  called ;  they  searched  every  nook  in  the  castle 
—  no  one. 

Hookbeard  was  thoughtful  and  silent.  The  miller, 
who  seemed  the  most  eager  to  hunt  him  up,  was  saying 
to  himself: 

"  He  got  his  thrashing  like  us.  He  will  know  now  what 


Three  Strong   Men  103 

the  devil  is  like.  He  was  telling  us  that  we  should  leave 
our  skins  rather  than  get  away  from  here  without  un 
raveling  this  mystery.  Well,  if  the  devil  has  skinned 
him,  so  much  the  worse  for  him.  At  any  rate,  he  will 
no  longer  poke  fun  at  us." 

Just  as  he  was  saying  this  to  himself,  Crowbar  arrived, 
mopping  his  brow  with  his  handkerchief,  and  said  to 
them: 

"  I  made  it  hot  for  him.  He  escaped  me  by  a  miracle. 
I  watched  him  coming  until  he  reached  the  table,  and, 
had  he  not  turned  round  and  jumped,  I  should  have 
killed  him  on  the  spot.  As  it  was,  I  gave  him  a  hot 
chase,  but  he  made  me  run,  I  tell  you !  Do  you  know 
where  he  went  down?  Well,  I  will  show  you." 

And  he  related  to  them  how  it  all  had  happened,  how 
he  had  feigned  sleep,  had  spied  him  behind  a  tree,  what 
his  size  was,  how  his  head  and  eyes  looked,  his  horns,  his 
legs  and  hands,  and  all  about  him.  He  took  them  to  the 
clump  of  trees,  removed  the  axle-tree  and  the  stone;  they 
decided  to  go  down  the  hole,  with  the  help  of.  pulleys 
and  ropes,  find  the  devil's  hiding-place,  and  settle  him 
for  good. 

The  day  following,  they  fixed  a  windlass  at  the  open 
ing  of  the  cave.  They  bought  three  or  four  miles  of  rope, 
and  made  all  kinds  of  preparations  to  carry  out  their 
scheme.  This  busied  them  all  day,  and,  as  prudence 
required  them  to  make  the  descent  by  daylight,  they 
postponed  operations  until  the  next  day. 


Tales  of  Languedoc 

In  the  evening,  at  table,  the  miller,  jealous  of  Crow 
bar's  achievement,  and  coveting  the  honor  of  killing  the 
devil,  said  that  he  would  go  down  first;  that  he  would 
do  this  and  that;  he  would  smash  the  devil  to  a  pan 
cake  with  one  blow  of  his  millstones. 

"  We  cannot  all  go  at  once,"  said  the  other  two.  "  If 
you  wish  to  go  first,  we  give  you  the  precedence." 

At  early  dawn  the  next  day,  the  trio  went  to  the 
hole.  Tying  a  strong  basket  to  the  rope,  the  miller  sat 
in  it,  with  millstones  in  his  pockets,  and  gave  the  signal 
to  be  lowered. 

Crowbar  and  Hookbeard  began  to  unwind  the  rope, 
and  the  miller  was  lowered  into  the  hole. 

So  long  as  he  looked  up  and  saw  the  light,  all 
went  well,  but  when  he  looked  down  he  became  dizzy. 
Besides,  you  know  that  a  rope  will  get  all  twisted 
in  winding  up,  and  when  unwound,  the  weight  at 
tached  to  it  will  whirl  and  whirl.  This  is  precisely 
what  happened  when  the  miller  sat  in  the  basket. 
His  weight  held  the  rope  taut,  and  the  twists  gave 
the  basket  a  whirling  motion.  The  deeper  he  went 
the  faster  turned  the  rope.  He  held  to  the  rope 
with  all  his  might,  but  the  whirling  made  him  sick, 
and  he  was  in  a  sad  plight.  At  last,  getting  scared, 
he  said  to  himself: 

"How  stupid  men  are  at  times!  For  a  little  honor, 
why  should  I  leave  my  bones  in  this  hole?  Let  the 
devil  go  to  the  deuce !  If  the  other  two  want  to  die,  let 


Three   Strong   Men  105 

them  die !  "  And,  gathering  all  his  strength  in  his  voice, 
he  shouted :  "  Pull  me  up !  Pull  me  up !  " 

He  was  pulled  up.  When  he  reached  the  opening 
his  face  was  like  wax.  They  quickly  gave  him  a  drop 
to  settle  his  stomach.  Then  Hookbeard  said,  coolly : 

"  You  got  scared,  miller.  I'll  take  your  place,  and  I 
believe  I  shall  have  a  little  more  courage." 

And  he  sat  in  the  basket.     The  miller  said  to  him  : 

"  You  should  take  a  stick,  or  something,  to  defend 
yourself;  you  go  with  your  arms  hanging,  as  if  you  were 
going  to  a  fete.  You  don't  know  what  awaits  you." 

Hookbeard  replied :  "  I  don't  need  anything.  Let 
me  put  my  paws  on  him,  and  he  is  done  for.  I  will  split 
him  in  two,  as  I  would  an  acorn." 

While  saying  this,  his  face  grew  purple  with  anger, 
and  his  eyes  shot  fire,  and  his  hands  were  clinched,  as  if 
he  meant  what  he  said.  Whether  he  was  angry  with 
the  miller  for  coming  up  is  not  certain,  but  he  was 
awfully  agitated. 

Finally  the  windlass  began  turning,  and  he  was 
slowly  lowered  into  the  hole. 

No  doubt  the  temperature  below  was  cooler  than  above 
ground.  So,  little  by  little,  Hookbeard's  blood  cooled  and 
his  fury  calmed,  for  he  soon  felt  chills  creeping  over  him; 
his  feet  grew  cold,  and  he  was  in  need  of  a  cordial  to 
keep  up  his  courage.  He  had  already  gone  deeper  than 
the  miller,  when  an  idea  struck  him. 

"  If  we  should  build  a  wall  over  the  hole,"  thought 


106  Tales  of  Languedoc 

he,  "  the  devil  could  not  come  out  again,  and  without 
any  risk  we  should  win  our  reward.  Let  me  suggest 
this  to  niy  companions,"  and  with  two  powerful  lungs 
he  shouted:  "  Pull  me  up !  Pull  me  up !  " 

They  pulled  him  up.  The  miller  longed  to  tease 
him,  and  was  glad  he  had  been  no  braver  than  he.  As 
soon  as  Hookbeard  showed  his  head  he  began  : 

"  Ha  !  ha !  You  thought  I  was  scared  !  And  you — 
what  have  you  had?  A  fright,  I  suppose.  Why  did 
you  turn  round?" 

"  I  afraid?"  roared  Hookbeard;  "I  afraid?  You  do 
not  know  me.  An  idea  struck  me,  and  I  wished  to  make 
you  share  it  ;  but  I  am  ready  to  go  down  again." 

"  "What  is  your  idea  ?  "  asked  Crowbar. 

"  See,"  replied  Hookbeard,  "  if  we  should  build  a  vault 
a  little  way  down  the  hole,  and  pile  in  stones  to  the  level 
of  the  ground,  the  devil  could  not  get  out,  and  without 
much  trouble  and  no  risk,  we  should  have  earned  our 
reward." 

"  Right  you  are,"  said  the  miller.  "  Let  us  do  it;  let 
us  do  it !  " 

"No!"  retorted  Crowbar;  "you  would  make  fun  of 
me,  and  if  it  be  only  to  go  a  little  farther  than  Hook- 
beard,  I  will  try  it." 

So  saying,  he  removed  the  basket,  tied  his  axle  to  the 
rope,  sat  astride  it,  and  gave  the  word  to  be  lowered. 

In  his  turn,  Crowbar  was  turning  in  space.  Cool  as  a 
cucumber,  however,  he  lighted  his  pipe,  and,  when  too 


Three   Strong   Men  107 

far  down  to  see,  lie  took  a  candle  from  his  pocket,  lighted 
it,  and  went  still  lower. 

His  companions  knew  by  the  rope  that  he  had  gone 
lower  than  they,  and  they  expected  to  hear  at  any 
moment  his  shout  to  be  hoisted  up. 

But  no,  nothing;  the  more  rope  they  gave  the  deeper 
he  went.  Finally,  when  the  rope  was  about  all  spent, 
they  heard  that  he  had  reached  bottom. 

Crowbar  untied  his  cane,  and  by  his  candle-light  saw 
that  he  was  far  from  being  out  of  the  cave.  He  walked 
and  walked,  not  knowing  whether  he  was  under  the  Alps, 
or  the  Pyrennees,  in  Tyrol,  or  Andalusia.  When  he  saw 
daylight,  he  found  himself  in  a  magnificent  lodge,  built 
of  the  fine  stones  of  La  Clote,  in  all  the  perfection  of 
high  art. 

Surprised,  he  said  to  himself:  "  This  surely  cannot 
be  the  devil's  abode,  it  is  too  fine." 

He  went  out,  and  found  himself  on  the  edge  of  a 
splendid  park,  in  a  beautiful  country.  There  were  large 
meadows,  watered  by  canals  of  pure  water;  there  were 
fine  avenues  and  stately  trees,  and  far  in  the  park  he 
could  see  a  lordly  castle. 

More  and  more  surprised,  he  advanced,  cane  in  hand, 
seeing  no  one,  but  seen  of  the  devil,  whose  sharp  eyes 
saw  from  afar. 

Sneaking  to  his  castle,  chattering :  "  Oh,  the  scoun 
drel!  here  he  is!  My  gracious,  I  am  lost!"  the  devil 
shut  himself  in  his  room,  shaking  like  an  aspen-leaf. 


io8  Tales  of  Languedoc 

His  back  still  hurt  him  from  the  blow  received  two  days 
before  from  Crowbar's  cane. 

Crowbar  went  on  to  the  castle,  trusting  in  his  strength, 
but  keeping  a  sharp  lookout,  for  he  knew  the  devil  to  be 
treacherous.  He  reached  the  gate  and  knocked — no  one 
appeared ;  he  walked  to  the  entrance  door,  and  pulled  the 
knocker  —  no  one  came.  He  then  opened  the  door,  and 
found  himself  in  a  large  room  sumptuously  furnished. 
Finding  nobody  there,  he  opened  another  door,  and 
found  himself  in  the  presence  of  a  young  and  charming 
lady,  to  whom  he  made  a  most  profound  bow. 

She  motioned  him  to  keep  still,  and  pointed  to 
another  door,  letting  him  understand  that  there  was  the 
devil's  room. 

Quick  as  a  flash,  Crowbar,  with  a  blow  from  his  cane, 
broke  the  door  open  and  made  a  rush  for  the  devil, 
who,  nimble  as  a  cat,  leaped  from  the  window.  Crow 
bar  jumped  after  him,  and  then  took  place  on  the  grounds 
the  liveliest  race  ever  seen. 

Every  time  the  devil  got  within  reach,  Crowbar  prod 
ded  him  with  his  cane,  but  at  every  blow  the  devil 
increased  his  gait.  They  chased  each  other  for  more 
than  two  hours.  At  last,  Crowbar  gaining  on  the  devil, 
lifted  his  cane  to  strike  a  deadly  blow.  With  a  supreme 
effort,  the  cane  came  down,  but  not  on  the  devil.  He 
had  dodged  the  blow  at  the  turning  of  an  alley,  and 
sprang  for  the  cane,  that  had  fallen  from  Crowbar's 
hand  in  the  exertion.  Just  as  he  was  about  to  grasp  it, 


Three   Strong   Men  1 1 1 

Crowbar  leaped  on  him,  and  a  hand-to-hand  fight  took 
place. 

Oh!  that  was  a  desperate  struggle  —  terrific  and 
horrible  to  see!  The  devil  shrieked  and  howled;  he 
scratched  and  bit ;  while  Crowbar,  dumb  and  purple  in 
the  face,  gave  telling  blows  with  his  fists.  He  could  not 
strike  the  devil's  head,  because  of  the  horns,  and  he 
could  not  grab  his  body,  because  it  was  so  sleek  and  slimy. 
At  last  the  devil's  strength  gave  out.  Crowbar  seized  him 
by  the  throat,  threw  him  on  his  back,  put  a  knee  on  his 
breast,  and,  with  the  cane  in  his  right  hand,  gave  him 
a  blow  between  the  horns  that  split  his  head  in  two. 
But  he  died  hard.  His  head  was  split  open,  yet  he  was 
struggling,  whipping  the  ground  with  his  tail,  and  foam 
ing  at  the  mouth.  When  at  last  he  was  still,  Crowbar 
returned  to  the  castle  to  see  to  the  young  lady,  whose 
presence  in  such  a  place  had  so  much  puzzled  him. 

She  had  been  the  sole  witness  of  the  grand  fight,  and 
a  most  interested  spectator,  for  she  understood  that  in 
Crowbar,  if  victorious,  she  would  find  a  deliverer. 

So  soon  as  Crowbar  appeared  in  the  yard,  she  has 
tened  to  meet  him,  took  him  by  the  hands,  and  said  to 
him: 

"  No  doubt  my  father  sent  you  to  my  rescue.  Who 
are  you,  and  whence  are  you  come  ?  How  have  you 
found  your  way  to  this  spot  ? 

"  I  have  been  here  for  the  last  three  years.  How  I  got 
here  I  do  not  know.  I  am  the  king's  daughter.  I  was 


ii2  Tales  of  Languedoc 

stolen  by  that  scoundrel  you  have  killed.  One  day, 
when  I  was  with  my  governess  on  the  banks  of  La  Loire, 
he  showed  himself  suddenly  to  me,  and  my  fright  was 
so  great  that  I  fainted,  and  when  I  came  to  myself  again 
I  was  in  this  palace,  alone  with  the  arch-fiend.  For  the 
last  three  years  he  has  persecuted  me  to  marry  him. 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  all  I  have  suffered,  although  he 
was  invariably  kind  and  considerate.  He  gave  me  all 
his  fancy  suggested. 

"  The  villain  was  always  at  home  nights,  but  early  in 
the  morning  he  would  depart,  to  be  gone  all  day,  and 
return  loaded  with  plunder  in  the  evening. 

"  You  have  no  idea  of  all  this  castle  contains  of  stolen 
goods.  I  will  visit  the  different  rooms  with  you.  But 
first  tell  me  who  you  are,  whence  you  come,  and  whether 
you  can  deliver  me  from  my  prison." 

Crowbar  briefly  told  his  story,  and  then,  in  company 
with  the  young  princess,  visited  the  castle. 

The  long  corridors  were  filled  with  sculpture  and 
paintings,  the  ceilings  were  frescoed,  the  rooms  had  most 
magnificent  hangings  and  were  furnished  with  rare  and 
costly  furniture.  The  cellars  were  full  of  boxes  of  all 
sizes  and  dimensions,  which  being  opened  were  found  to 
contain  crown  jewels  and  diamonds,  silver  and  gold. 
Some  boxes  were  full  of  stolen  watches,  others  held 
silver  spoons  and  forks,  and  still  others  contained 
precious  stones. 

The  yards  about  the  castle  were  supplied  with  fowls 


Three   Strong   Men  113 

of  all  kinds,  cattle  and  horses  of  every  breed  filled  his 
stables,  deer  stalked  about  the  park,  and  pheasants  were 
plenty  in  the  preserve. 

When.  Crowbar  had  seen  everything  with  his  fair 
guide,  he  took  her  to  the  entrance  to  the  hole  through 
which  he  had  come  down,  and  calling  to  the  miller  and 
Hookbeard,  told  them  to  make  ready  to  receive  the 
king's  daughter,  whom  the  devil  had  carried  to  this 
lair. 

The  rope  was  promptly  lowered,  an  arm-chair,  which 
Crowbar  fetched,  made  fast  to  it,  and  the  princess  sat 
therein.  He  securely  tied  her  about  the  waist,  to  pre 
vent  her  falling,  and  gave  the  order  to  hoist  her  up. 

Crowbar  staid  near  until  he  was  sure  she  had  safely 
reached  the  top;  then  he  went  to  fetch  all  the  boxes  of 
jewels  and  silver  and  gold. 

Hookbeard  and  the  miller  received  the  young  lady 
with  all  the  respect  due  to  her  rank.  They  took  her  to 
the  castle  of  La  Ferriere,  gave  her  the  best  room  they 
found,  and  sent  her  next  day  posthaste  to  her  father,  the 
King  of  France.  They  then  returned  to  the  hole  to  hear 
further  from  Crowbar. 

When  the  princess  reached  Paris,  the  king  and  cour 
tiers,  apprised  by  courier  of  the  miraculous  deliverance, 
went  to  escort  her  into  the  capital.  The  meeting  between 
the  king  and  his  daughter  was  very  affecting.  They  fell 
on  each  other's  necks  and  wept  for  joy;  the  whole  court, 
out  of  sympathy,  did  likewise. 


ii4          Tales  of  Languedoc 

The  first  emotion  over,  the  king,  full  of  gratitude 
toward  his  daughter's  rescuer,  remembered  his  promise 
made  soon  after  her  disappearance. 

It  should  be  said  that  some  three  years  before  the 
young  princess  was  promenading  on  the  banks  of  the 
Loire.  She  dismissed  her  attendant  with  the  order  to 
come  for  her  at  sundown.  When  the  maid  came  the 
princess  was  nowhere  to  be  found.  They  searched  the 
woods  near  by,  they  dragged  the  river,  they  scoured 
the  whole  country  round  and  made  inquiries  far 
and  near,  but  found  no  trace  of  her.  She  had  vanished 
from  sight,  and  nobody  could  account  for  her  disap 
pearance. 

It  was  then  that,  in  despair,  the  king  issued  a  procla 
mation  that  gave  his  daughter  in  marriage  to  any  man 
who  should  bring  her  back. 

Hookbeard  was  the  first  to  hear  that  the  king's 
daughter  was  to  be  the  wife  of  her  rescuer. 

Good-natured  and  generous,  he  said  to  himself: 
"  What  a  good  thing  for  Crowbar!  "  and  already  became 
jubilant  at  the  thought  of  the  grand  wedding  to  which 
he  would  be  invited. 

The  miller,  on  the  other  hand,  was  jealous  and  grasp 
ing,  he  said  to  himself:  "  Why,  I  would  not  refuse  her 
for  my  wife !  If  I  had  not  been  so  afraid,  and  had  gone 
down  the  hole,  she  would  now  be  my  bride." 

However,  each  kept  his  thoughts  to  himself  and  both 
worked  away  hoisting  the  boxes  which  were  filled  with 


Three   Strong   Men  117 

diamonds,  pearls,  rings  and  bracelets,  all  sorts  of  jewels, 
and  plenty  of  gold  and  silver. 

On  seeing  this  heap  of  riches  at  his  feet,  the 
miller  lost  his  head,  and  ventured  to  say  to  Hook- 
beard  : 

"  Now  then,  for  whom  have  we  been  working  all  this 
time?  For  Crowbar,  no  doubt.  He  very  likely  will 
take  all  this,  marry  the  king's  daughter,  and  we  poor 
fellows,  who  have  helped  so  much,  will  get  left.  If  you  '11 
believe  me,  we  will  scoop  this  pile  of  riches,  pull  up  the 
rope,  and  make  off." 

Hookbeard,  kind-hearted  but  weak,  yielded  to  the 
miller's  reasons.  Indeed,  the  sight  of  so  much  gold  was 
enough  to  lead  any  man  astray.  So  when  Crowbar  hal 
looed,  "  Hoist  me  up !  There  is  nothing  more  to  haul 
up,"  the  miller  and  Hookbeard  removed  the  windlass, 
threw  the  rope  in  a  stream  near  by,  took  with  them  all 
the  treasures,  and  decamped. 

Happily  for  Crowbar  they  did  not  think  to  cover  up 
the  hole,  or  he  would  surely  have  been  lost. 

In  vain  did  Crowbar  call,  shout,  halloo  —  nobody  re 
plied.  He  soon  guessed  the  cause  of  that  silence  on 
the  part  of  his  friends,  and  being  somewhat  of  a  phil 
osopher,  he  thought  in  this  wise: 

"  How  mean  is  human  nature!  God  must  have  used 
very  dirty  clay  when  He  made  man.  The  proverb  says 
that  everything  God  does  He  does  well.  Without  doubt 
ing  the  truth  of  the  proverb,  it  seems  to  me  had  He  used 


n8  Tales  of  Languedoc 

cleaner  clay  in  the  making,  men  would  be  better  than 
they  are." 

Not  being  easily  disheartened,  Crowbar  returned  to 
the  castle,  saying  to  himself : 

"  We  shall  see  later;  sometimes  the  wicked  are  caught 
in  their  own  traps." 

We  have  already  seen  that  the  king,  soon  after  recov 
ering  his  daughter,  remembered  his  promise  to  give  her 
to  her  rescuer;  but  as  he  was  a  kind  father,  and  very 
considerate  of  his  daughter's  feelings,  he  spoke  to  her  in 
this  wise: 

"  In  my  great  despair,  and  hoping  that  the  offer  of 
your  hand  to  the  man  who  should  bring  you  back  might 
cause  my  subjects  to  diligently  search  for  you,  I  made 
that  promise,  and  pledged  my  royal  word.  Now,  I 
should  be  very  sorry  to  impose  on  you  a  husband  who 
should  not  be  to  your  liking.  Tell  me  if  your  rescuer 
would  be  acceptable  to  you,  and  if  I  may  renew  my  royal 
pledge." 

"Perfectly  acceptable,"  answered  the  princess;  and 
thereupon  she  related  to  the  king  all  that  which  took 
place  in  the  devil's  lair,  her  meeting  with  Crowbar,  his 
kindness  to  her,  the  way  he  had  sent  her  up  the  hole, 
and  she  added:  "  I  am  sure  he  will  please  you.  He  is 
tall,  well-proportioned,  handsome,  as  strong  as  ten  men, 
and  exceedingly  kind." 

Then  the  king  replied :  "  Let  us  await  his  coming." 

And  they  waited  one,  two,  five  months  —  a  year,  two 


Three   Strong   Men  119 

years, —  and  Crowbar  not  appearing,  the  king  and  his 
daughter  were  in  despair.  What  had  happened  to  him? 
They  could  not  imagine.  They  tried  to  hunt  up  the 
miller  and  Hookbeard,  but  they  were  not  to  be  found. 
Whether  they  bad  gone  to  Brussels,  St.  Petersburg,  Egypt, 
or  India,  nobody  knew. 

All  this  time  Crowbar  was  planning  a  way  of  escape 
from  his  prison. 

Alone  in  the  devil's  domain,  he  roamed  through  the 
garden,  the  park,  the  woods,  the  meadows,  to  find  a  road 
leading  out  of  the  solitary  place.  On  all  sides  he  found 
perpendicular  walls  which  no  one  could  think  of  scaling. 
Another  man  would  have  been  discouraged  —  not  Crow 
bar.  He  kept  saying  to  himself:  "We  shall  see;  we 
shall  see." 

One  morning,  as  he  lay  awake  in  his  bed,  the  thought 
came  to  him  that  an  eagle  might  perhaps  help  him  out 
of  his  predicament.  In  truth,  an  eagle  was  strong  enough 
to  bear  him  up,  if  it  could  only  be  made  to  do  it.  He 
had  seen  an  eagle's  nest  a  day  or  two  before,  and 
he  had  thought :  "  If  I  can  tame  the  mother,  I  may 
train  the  eaglets  to  do  my  bidding."  So  every  day  he 
brought  meat  and  put  it  near  the  nest.  Soon  eagle  and 
eaglets  were  tame  enough  to  eat  off  his  hand.  When 
large  enough  to  leave  the  nest,  the  eaglets  would  follow 
him  around  like  puppies.  As  they  grew  larger  they 
played  with  him  like  children.  They  played  hide-and- 
seek;  they  climbed  on  his  back;  they  perched  on  his 


120  Tales  of  Languedoc 

shoulders.  All  the  time  he  fed  them  the  pick  of  the 
poultry-yard.  Eaglets  became  eagles,  and  he  tried  to 
teach  them  to  fly  with  him  on  their  backs;  but  so  strong 
and  heavy  was  Crowbar,  it  took  two  years  before  one 
of  them  could  fly  any  distance  with  him  on  its  back. 

Satisfied  at  last  that  the  strongest  of  the  lot  could 
sustain  his  weight  for  a  long  flight,  he  took  the  bird  to 
the  mouth  of  the  hole  and,  pointing  upward,  said  to  the 
eagle :  "  Take  me  up  there."  And  sitting  astride  on  the 
eagle's  wings,  they  began  to  ascend.  To  mount  in  a 
straight  line  being  impossible,  the  eagle  whirled  round 
and  round  the  hole  until  it  reached  the  top.  Both 
rested  a  while,  and  then  Crowbar  caressed  the  eagle, 
bade  it  good-by,  and  left  it  to  return  at  leisure. 

Crowbar's  first  inquiry  was  for  his  comrades  and  for 
the  young  lady. 

He  learned  that  she  had  gone  to  Paris,  and  resided 
with  her  father,  the  king.  As  for  Hookbeard  and  the 
miller,  they  were  gone  no  one  knew  where.  His  anxiety 
was  for  the  lady,  however,  since  it  occurred  to  him  that, 
to  hide  their  conduct,  his  two  companions  might  have 
killed  her. 

Feeling  relieved  as  to  her  fate,  he  took  a  fast  horse  to 
Paris,  expecting  that  the  king  would  pay  him  hand 
somely  for  rescuing  his  daughter.  He  was  not  posted 
as  to  the  king's  intentions  towards  him,  and  was  far 
from  expecting  what  awaited  him  in  Paris. 

Ah !   as  soon  as  he  presented  himself  at  the  palace, 


Three   Strong   Men  121 

he  saw  the  young  princess  running  down  the  stairs  to 
greet  him.  He,  somewhat  abashed,  bowed  two  or  three 
times,  hesitating  to  enter  the  palace;  but  she  took 
him  by  the  hand  and  led  him  to  her  father. 

It  is  needless  to  describe  the  reception  the  king  gave 
him,  or  the  brave  man's  joy  on  learning  that  he  was  to 
be  the  husband  of  the  princess,  nor  the  grand  wedding 
repast  given  on  the  marriage  day. 

As  to  Hookbeard  and  the  miller,  on  leaving  France, 
they  sold  their  jewels  and  precious  stones,  and  deposited 
the  money  in  a  bank.  For  a  while  they  lived  like 
princes;  but  one  day  the  bank  failed,  all  depositors  lost 
their  money,  and  the  miller  and  Hookbeard  had  to  beg 
for  a  living.  They  led  a  miserable  existence,  sleeping 
outdoors  or  in  barns  in  all  kinds  of  weather.  This 
was  the  harder  to  bear  after  their  experience  of  luxury: 
so  one  night,  as  they  were  out  under  a  tree  during  a 
storm,  Hookbeard  said  to  the  miller : 

"  We  were  very  wrong  to  act  as  we  did  towards  Crow 
bar;  we  could  have  lived  just  as  well  on  a  little  less,  if 
we  had  not  have  taken  the  plunder  from  the  devil's  lair, 
and  now  we  should  have  a  friend  in  Crowbar,  who 
they  say,  got  out  of  the  hole,  married  the  king's  daugh 
ter,  and  is  now  a  powerful  prince.  Now,  who  dares  to 
go  and  see  him  and  ask  for  his  help?  " 

The  miller  hung  his  head  and  made  no  reply.  He 
felt  the  more  guilty  of  the  two,  for  it  was  he  who  had 
won  over  Hookbeard  to  his  plan  of  abandoning  Crowbar. 


122  Tales  of  Languedoc 

Nothing  further  was  said  that  night,  and  for  some  time 
they  roughed  it  as  best  they  could.  At  last,  they  could 
endure  that  life  no  longer,  and  decided  to  go  in  search 
of  Crowbar.  They  would  beg  his  pardon  on  their  knees, 
and  perhaps  in  his  kindness  of  heart  he  would  forgive 
them  and  render  some  assistance. 

Having  taken  that  resolution,  they  set  out  for  the 
king's  palace.  On  reaching  it  they  inquired  for  Crow 
bar.  He  came  to  meet  them,  and  was  greatly  surprised 
to  see  their  poverty.  His  first  impulse  was  to  forgive 
them  and  treat  them  kindly;  but  the  king,  who  knew 
of  their  doings,  forbade  him  to  receive  them,  and  ordered 
them  thrown  into  prison,  and  there  they  ended  their 
days. 

Crowbar,  meanwhile,  had  become  a  powerful  prince, 
and  was  much  beloved  by  the  king.  He  reared  a  large 
family  of  children,  and  finally  died  in  peace  and  plenty 
surrounded  by  many  friends. 

The  castle  of  La  Ferriere  became  again  habitable,  since 
the  devil  had  ceased  to  haunt  it,  and  the  Marquis,  his 
children,  and  their  descendants  have  dwelt  happily  in 
it  ever  since. 


Che  hautbop  plaper 
of  Vcniabrcn. 


The  Hautboy  Player  of 
Ventabren 

WHILE  my  companion  was  relating  the  story  of  The 
Three  Strong  Men,  we  traveled  over  considerable 
ground.  The  sun  was  setting  when  he  finished,  and  we 
were  Hearing  a  town.  Several  of  our  fellow-travelers 
had  dropped  off  by  the  way,  my  companion  and  I  shook 
hands  at  the  gate  of  the  town,  and  I  was  left  alone 
to  go  to  the  inn. 

I  spent  a  very  good  night  there,  and  the  next  day  I 
hardly  know  where  I  went.  I  believe  that  was  the  day 
I  met  the  hautboy  player  —  he  was  a  jolly  fellow, 
though!  He  made  it  lively  for  us  going  through  the 
big  woods.  I  '11  tell  you  about  the  hautboy  player  of 
Ventabren. 

I  had  been  walking  alone  through  a  flat  country 
until,  just  as  I  came  to  an  extensive  piece  of  woods,  I 
met  a  man;  and  we  were  going  through  the  woods  in 
company  when  it  happened  that,  as  another  trail  met 
ours,  we  fell  in  with  a  man  and  a  small  boy. 


126  Tales  of  Languedoc 

"  Halloa!  you  here,  Fougasse ?"  shouted  my  compan 
ion,  as  the  man  joined  us. 

"  I  am  he,"  replied  the  newcomer. 

"  Where  do  you  come  from  ?  " 

"Te!   I  come  from  the  fete  of  Garigues." 

I  took  him  for  a  hautboy  player.  He  wore  a  pigeon 
feather  in  his  hat,  and  an  unmounted  hautboy  could 
be  seen  sticking  out  of  the  pocket  of  his  half-buttoned 
vest.  He  carried  a  bundle  swung  on  the  end  of  a  stick 
over  his  shoulder  —  it  was  a  big  fougasse  tied  in  a  nap 
kin.  The  little  boy  carried  on  his  back,  strapped  to  his 
shoulders,  a  tambourin,  and — pecairef*  he  could  hardly 
walk  with  his  load,  so  young  was  he. 

Speaking  to  the  hautboy  player,  my  companion  very 
familiarly  called  him  "  Fougasse,"  and  I  made  bold  to 
say:  "But  that  is  not  your  name." 

"  Ho  !  no,  indeed;  my  name  is  Saouche.  Fougasse  is 
my  nickname." 

"And  don't  you  hate  to  be  called  Fougasse?" 

"  Hate  it  ?  no ;  I  would  not  be  a  hautboy  player  if  I 
did  —  all  the  hautboy  players  are  nicknamed.  It  is 
part  of  our  calling,  you  know. 

"  You  want  to  know  why  I  am  called  Fougasse  ? 

"  Well,  I  was  returning  from  the  fete  of  Garigues,  as  I 
am  now — this  was  many  years  ago.  I  carried,  as  now, 
a  fougasse  on  the  end  of  my  stick.  The  sun  was  low  as 
we  reached  this  very  spot,  and  we  were  quietly  jogging 
along,  as  we  are  now,  when  the  little  fellow  with  me, 

*  Poor  me ! 


The  Hautboy  Player  129 

like  this  one,  said :  '  Uncle,  see  that  big  dog  coming  be 
hind  us.' 

"  I  turned  and  saw  a  tremendous  wolf  ten  paces  from 
us.  I  took  two  or  three  steps  towards  him  to  frighten 
him.  He  stopped,  eyed  me,  and  started  when  I  started. 
I  stopped  again — he  stopped;  I  walked,  and  he  walked. 
The  night  was  coming  on.  I  began  to  get  scared.  The 
boy  was  holding  tight  to  my  hand,  and  we  were  stretch 
ing  our  legs  to  the  utmost,  when  the  idea  struck  me 
that  he  might  be  hungry.  I  would  give  him  a  piece  of 
my  fougasse,  and  he  would  go  off  to  eat  it. 

"  Zou!  I  cut  a  piece,  threw  it  at  him,  and  ran.  He 
made  but  a  mouthful  of  it.  You  would  think  he  had 
not  eaten  for  three  days.  He  showed  wicked,  sharp, 
white  teeth,  which  set  me  thinking;  and  hardly  had  he 
swallowed  the  fougasse  than  he  followed  us  again,  this 
time  a  little  closer.  I  cut  him  another  piece.  Zou!  He 
swallowed  it  down  —  quick,  too;  and  little  by  little  the 
fougasse  went.  What  was  to  be  done?  I  was  at  my 
wits'  end.  The  night  was  dark;  his  eyes  shone  like  two 
lanterns.  Directly  there  were  four  instead  of  two  pierc 
ing  me  with  their  wicked  glare.  Whether  it  was  due  to 
the  terrible  fright,  I  am  ashamed  to  own  it;  but  I  was 
sure  there  were  two  wolves  following  us.  My  hair  stood 
up  like  the  bristles  on  a  hog's  back  —  my  hat  did  not 
touch  my  head.  Good  gracious!  I  thought  to  myself,  if 
I  had  only  some  more  fougasse!  I  was  in  a  terrible  fix. 

"  We  stopped,  both  of  us  petrified  in  our  shoes,  and 


130  Tales  of  Languedoc 

the  idea  flashed  to  my  mind:  'Perhaps  they  might  like 
to  dance.' 

"  As  quickly  as  my  shaking  fingers  would  let  me,  I 
mounted  my  hautboy  and  began  to  play  a  medley  of — 
I  don't  know  what.  The  effect  was  like  magic.  They 
stopped,  hesitated  a  moment,  and  off  they  went  as  if  the 
devil  was  after  them.  I  assure  you  they  did  not  stop  to 
keep  time  to  the  hautboy. 

"Did  I  stop  playing?  Not  I!  I  played  nearly  the 
whole  night,  until  I  reached  my  house.  My  wife, 
who  was  still  up,  heard  the  hautboy,  and  came  out  on 
the  steps  with  a  light. 

" '  What  do  you  mean  by  playing  so  late  in  the  night  ? 
Have  you  gone  crazy?'  said  she.  I  told  her  my  adven 
tures.  She  burst  out  laughing,  and  yet  laughs  every 
time  she  thinks  of  it.  Since  then  I  have  met  many 
wolves,  but  I  never  lose  my  wits.  To  one  I  play  a  little 
farandole,  to  another  the  waltz  of  Sardan,  and  the  thing 
works  like  a  charm  —  they  are  off  at  the  first  note,  and 
I  have  no  more  trouble  with  them. 

"  The  day  after  my  scare,  my  wife,  who  likes  gossip, 
told  one  of  our  neighbors  confidentially  about  it;  she, 
of  course,  told  another,  and  the  news  spread.  Soon  I 
was  known  as  '  La  Fougasse.' 

"At  Massillargues  the  hautboy  player  betook  himself 
to  his  mother's  potato  patch  one  day,  with  his  neighbor's 
old  mule  hitched  to  a  plough.  He  sung  out  to  the  mule  in 
the  shrill  tones  of  the  hautboy,  and  the  beast  tore  across 


The  Hautboy  Player          131 

the  field  like  mad,  dragging  the  boy  and  plough  after 
him.  He  tried  to  quiet  him  down;  but  the  more 
he  heard  of  his  notes,  the  faster  he  went — back  and 
forth  across  the  patch  they  had  it, — and  they  might 
still  be  ploughing,  if  the  plough  had  not  struck  a 
buried  root,  broken  the  harness,  and  sent  the  hautboy 
player  turning  somersaults  into  the  middle  of  the 
potato  patch.  The  poor  fellow  went  home  more  dead 
than  alive.  His  mother  asked  him  how  he  came  in 
such  a  plight  —  all  sweat  and  dirt.  He  answered,  surly 
as  could  be : 

"  '  Never  will  I  touch  a  plough  again, —  I  have  had 
ploughing  enough  to  last  a  lifetime!  N'a'i  fa  mi  tibaje, 
un  tibaje!' 

"  The  story  got  out,  and  everybody  calls  him  '  Tibaje.' 

"The  hautboy  player  of  Fontade  has  a  mean 
temper.  He  was  always  crying  when  a  child,  and  his 
mother  gave  him  sweets  and  bonbons  to  quiet  him. 
The  young  rascal  would  stop  long  enough  to  eat;  then 
he  would  cry  louder  than  ever:  'N'en  vole  mai!  N'en 
vole  mai'  (I  want  more).  So  it  came  to  be  his  nickname. 
To  be  sure,  he  is  rather  surly  when  they  call  him  '  N'en 
vole  mai';  and,  if  he  were  not  a  hautboy  player,  he 
would  get  downright  mad. 

"  But  what  can  you  expect?  Hautboy  players  should 
be  philosophers,  and  then  —  so  long  as  the  pot  is  kept 
boiling  —  that  is  the  main  thing.  We  work  little,  earn 
good  wages,  are  always  en  fete.  We  dress  well,  and  why 


13  2  Tales  of  Languedoc 

should  we  worry  or  get  mad  ?    For  my  part,  you  may 
often  hear  me  singing: 


Tan  pis  p6r  caou  s6  chagrina 
leoft  si6'i  toujou  gai'  6  counten 
£  m6  plas6  din  ma  cousina 
Surtou  quan  I'asti6  vira  b6n."  * 


*  Sorry  for  who  grieves, 
I  am  always  cheerful  and  content, 
And  I  delight  in  my  kitchen 
When  the  spit  nicely  turns. 


Cppepre  of  $t*  Clement 
and  £ou  Douna 
of  £ecque$. 


Cypeyre  of  St.  Clement  and 
Lou  Douna  of  Lecques 

WHILE  Fougasse  was  relating  his  story,  we  arrived 
in  the  village,  and  he  and  the  little  drummer-boy 
took  to  our  left.  I  wanted  to  spend  the  night  at  the 
inn,  the  wolf  story  had  made  such  an  impression  on  my 
mind.  I  took  courage  when  my  companion  said  :  "  It 
is  true  that  in  the  days  of  which  Fougasse  speaks 
wolves  were  numerous,  but  in  the  last  few  years  they 
have  been  hunted  down.  Now  there  are  not  so  many, 
and  perchance,  if  we  come  across  one,  we  will  whistle  a 
tune,  and  find  out  whether  there  is  any  truth  in  his  tale. 
Besides,  this  village  inn  is  very  poor.  Let  us  push  on 
to  the  next  village.  I  know  the  innkeeper,  and  we  shall 
be  well  treated."  But  I  was  thirsty,  and  insisted  on 
having  a  drink,  so  he  went  to  the  inn  with  me.  There 
was  a  solitary  traveler  in  the  room  sitting  before  a  bottle 
of  claret.  He  greeted  my  companion  with  : 

"Halloa,   Cypeyre,    is  that    you?    "What  good  wind 
brings  you  here  ? '' 

The   other  replied :    "  And  how   d'ye   do  ?     Douna, 
whence  do  you  come  ?  " 

"  I  come  from  the  fair  of  Picho  Gallargues." 

"  Had  you  anything  to  sell  ?  " 


136  Tales  of  Languedoc 

"  No ;  on  the  contrary,  I  wanted  to  buy  my  seed  for 
the  coming  fall  from  the  Gypsies.  They  alone  had  any 
for  sale.  But  I  have  seen  them  play  a  trick  which  has 
cooled  me.  I  tell  you  they  are  nothing  but  a  band  of 
thieves;  the  government  ought  to  wipe  them  out,  one 
and  all,  men,  women,  and  brats. 

"  Do  you  know  they  have  played  a  trick  on  poor 
Henri  de  Catalan  which  makes  one  think  twice  before 
having  any  dealings  with  them.  The  poor  fellow,  to 
raise  some  money,  wanted  to  sell  his  white  mule  Falet — 
that  big  white  mule,  with  ears  going  '  fliqua,  flaqua,' 
seeming  to  beat  time  when  he  walks.  You  know,  Henri 
is  not  over  smart.  He  was  walking,  his  coat  over  his 
shoulder,  vest  unbuttoned,  the  rope  of  the  halter  in  his 
hand,  and  'barisqua,  barasqua'  —  without  ever  turning 
to  see  if  his  mule  was  following  him,  certain  that  so 
long  as  held  the  rope  he  had  the  mule. 

"  Not  far  from  the  market-place,  he  passed  a  troop  of 
dirty  Gypsies.  Hardly  had  he  got  beyond  the  camp, 
when  one  of  them  stealthily  crept  to  the  mule,  unbuckled 
the  halter,  put  his  head  in  it,  and  followed  Henri,  who, 
unsuspectingly,  jogged  along,  leading  a  man  in  the 
place  of  his  mule  —  and  that  clear  into  the  mule- 
market. 

"  When  they  were  in  the  midst  of  the  crowd,  the 
Gypsy  pulled  gently  on  the  halter,  and  then  more  and 
more,  until  Henri  turned  round  with  a  '  Get  up,  you 
lazy  mule!'  You  can  have  no  idea  of  his  amazement 


Cypeyre  of  St.  Clement        139 

when  he  saw  the  shabby,  dirty  Gypsy,  with  his  shock  of 
a  head  in  the  halter. 

" '  What  art  thou  doing  here,  dirty  lout ! ' 

"  The  Gypsy  coolly  and  blandly  replied : 

" '  My  friend,  for  a  crime  I  had  committed,  God 
changed  me  into  a  mule.  It  is  a  great  misfortune  for 
you  that  my  time  should  expire  this  morning.  If  you 
had  sold  me  yesterday,  the  loss  would  not  be  for  you. 
But  as  the  law  forbids  you  to  sell  a  man  for  a  mule, 
farewell ! ' 

"  He  left,  and  Henri  stood  there  in  a  crowd  of  men, 
speechless,  the  rope  in  his  hand,  the  halter  on  the 
ground,  scratching  his  head,  and  wondering  if  he  was 
dreaming.  He  was  the  laughing-stock  of  the  whole  fair. 
His  mule  was  gone,  and,  crestfallen,  he  took  his  way 
back  home." 

"When  we  had  refreshed  ourselves  we  left  Lou  Douna 
and  set  out  on  our  way. 

"  I  think  I  know  who  you  are  now,"  said  I  to  my 
companion.  "  You  are  Cypeyre  of  St.  Clement,  the  busi 
ness  manager  of  the  castle — I  have  often  heard  your 
name  mentioned ;  you  have  been  long  in  your  present 
position." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  he  replied;  "  the  position  has  been  held  by 
father  and  son  for  more  than  eighty  years,  and  I  am  on 
my  way  back  from  Montpelier,  where  I  went  to  see  the 
owners  of  the  castle.  They  are  growing  old,  and  do  not 
come  often  to  visit  their  estate.  When  they  want  any- 


14°  Tales  of  Languedoc 

thing  they  send  for  me.  They  are  always  very  consid 
erate,  and  treat  ine  as  one  of  the  family;  but  this  time 
they  paid  so  little  attention  to  my  wants  that  I  had  to 
remind  them  that  I  was  hungry,  in  a  way  that  covered 
them  with  confusion  and  which  makes  me  ashamed  of 
myself  when  I  think  of  it.  This  morning,  at  about 
two  o'clock,  I  took  a  cup  of  coffee  and  left  home  to 
walk  to  town.  You  know  the  distance  is  fully  thirty- 
three  kilometres,  going  by  short  cuts  on  pretty  rough 
roads.  I  reached  the  master's  house  about  half-past 
eight  in  the  morning,  dusty,  hungry  and  well-nigh 
spent.  I  was  announced,  and  when  I  was  asked  to  go 
into  the  dining-room,  where  the  old  couple  were,  it  was 
close  to  nine  o'clock.  As  hungry  as  a  bear,  my  stomach 
would  go  'brrrou,  brrrou'  at  times.  They  were  seated  at 
the  table,  with  two  large  bowls  of  cafe-au-lait  before  them, 
some  nice  chicken  and  sausage,  butter  and  rolls  of  fresh- 
baked  pain-au-lait,  which  made  one's  hair  curl,  I  assure 
you.  I  would  willingly  have  eaten  three  or  four,  for  I 
was  hungry,  and  'a  good  appetite  requires  no  sauce,' 
they  say;  but  I  had  to  wait  for  an  invitation  which 
never  came. 

"  They  were  both  very  kind.  '  Oh,  Cypeyre,  you  have 
not  come  for  so  long!  Well,  how  is  all  at  the  castle?' 

" '  Yes,  sir ;  all  is  well ' —  and  I  was  invited  to  sit  by 
the  chimney  before  a  bright  fire. 

"  I  thought  to  myself,  '  I  am  more  hungry  than 
cold.' 


Cypeyre  of  St.  Clement        141 

"  The  gentleman  said :  '  The  shepherd  is  now  recov 
ered,  is  he  not?' 

"  '  Yes,  sir ;  he  is  well  again.' 

"  'And  the  old  mule  lasts  yet ? ' 

" '  Yes,  sir ;  but  we  shall  have  soon  to  replace  him.' 

"'And  the  colt — he  must  be  fine;  he  will  soon  be 
three  years  old.' 

" '  Yes,  sir ;  he  is  a  beauty.  I  have  already  driven 
him  a  few  times ;  he  will  make  a  good  roadster.' 

'"And  the  wood-choppers — are  they  through  ? ' 

" '  Yes,  sir ;  they  finished  two  weeks  ago,  and  I  bring 
you  the  money  they  left  for  you.' 

" '  That  is  well,'  said  he ;  and  meanwhile  this  old 
couple  were  daintily  picking  at  every  dish,  and  poor 
me,  more  hungry  than  both  together,  watched  them 
with  my  stomach  going  '  brrrou,  brrrou.' 

"  After  a  moment  of  silence,  the  lady  said : 

'"How  are  the  flocks  doing — is  there  much  in 
crease?'  And  before  I  could  answer  her:  'Te!  has  the 
goat  any  kids?' 

"'  Beg  your  pardon,  madame;  I  had  forgotten  to  tell 
you — she  has  three  kids,  and  three  fine  ones  they 
are.' 

"  The  lady  turned  to  her  husband  and  said :  '  Do  you 
hear  what  he  says? — three  kids !  How  do  you  suppose 
they  suck  ?  The  goat  has  only  two  teats.' 

"  I  gave  the  husband  no  time  to  reply,  but  hastened  to 
say: 


142  Tales  of  Languedoc 

" '  When  two  suck  the  mother,  the  third  does  as  I  am 
doing  now — it  looks  on.' 

"  The  lady,  stung  to  the  quick,  apologized  profusely : 

"  '  Excuse  us,  Cypeyre ;  pardon  us,  my  friend, —  it  did 
not  occur  to  us  that  you  had  not  had  breakfast.' 

"  Promptly  they  gave  orders  to  set  a  plate  for  me,  and 
I  was  served  like  a  king. 

"  I  know  I  was  somewhat  rude,  but  you  know: 

"  '  L  'esprit  quan  lou  vSntre  ba'issa 

Pre"n  pa  counsel  qu6  d6  la  ma'issa.'  "  * 

I  listened  to  all  this  without  making  any  comment, 
finding  Cypeyre's  ruse  bold  indeed,  and  yet  thinking 
that  the  oversight  of  the  old  couple  deserved  a  little  re 
buke. 

*  An  empty  stomach  guides  the  mind ;  or,  an  empty  stomach  consults 
only  the  palate. 


'A  Blind  man's  Storp, 
or  tbe 
Miraculous  Cree. 


A    Blind  Man's    Story,    or    the 
Miraculous  Tree 

WHEN  Cypeyre  had  done  relating  his  story  we 
walked  in  silence,  until  we  reached  the  foothills 
of  La  Pefia.  There  were  two  ways — the  old  and  shorter 
road  which  goes  over  the  mountain,  and  the  new  road 
which  skirts  it. 

Cypeyre,  who  knew  every  inch  of  the  ground  in  the 
country,  said  to  me : 

"  Let  us  take  the  new  road ;  a  good  road  is  never 
long  to  travel,  and  I  wish  to  point  out  to  you  a  spot 
where  a  very  curious  thing  happened." 

We  journeyed  on,  and  had  skirted  half  the  mountain, 
—  we  were  then  in  the  thick  of  the  forest, —  when 
Cypeyre  pointed  out  a  bare  spot,  and  said  : 

"  In  olden  times,  on  that  clearing,  was  an  enormous 
tree,  which  looked  like  a  cedar.  The  lower  branches, 
which  grew  on  the  trunk  at  a  height  of  six  or  seven  feet 
from  the  ground,  were  thick,  straight,  horizontal,  and  so 
long  that  a  whole  regiment  could  take  shelter  under 
them.  Four  men  with  outstretched  arms  could  hardly 
have  encompassed  the  trunk.  The  leaves  were  not  nee 
dle-shaped,  like  the  cedars',  but  were  large  and  soft  as 


146  Tales  of  Languedoc 

velvet,  and  so  thick  was  the  foliage  that  one  could  look 
up  and  not  see  the  sky  through  it. 

"  In  summer  shepherds  led  their  flocks  under  this 
tree,  to  protect  them  from  the  noonday  heat.  At  times 
five  or  six  flocks  could  be  seen  under  its  shade,  and  there 
was  room  for  them  all. 

"  In  winter  few  people  traveled  this  region,  the  road 
was  poor,  the  spot  wild,  lonesome,  and  dangerous  on 
account  of  brigands. 

"Every  year  in  early  springtime  a  great  many 
"gavots"  from  the  Lozere  come  down  from  their  moun 
tain  homes  to  work  in  the  rich  surrounding  departments, 
where  they  find  more  work  and  better  wages  than  they 
could  get  at  home. 

"  Two  brothers,  Batiste  and  Louiset,  had  gone  to  the 
Baumel  farm,  belonging  to  Monsieur  Granier. 

"  Their  work,  which  was  paid  by  the  da}r,  consisted  of 
spading  vineyards. 

"  Batiste  was  seventeen  years  old,  and  his  brother 
about  fifteen.  Besides  their  wages,  they  got  wine  and 
soup  daily,  cooked  for  them  by  the  farmer's  wife.  The 
rest  they  furnished  and  prepared  themselves;  and  the  rest 
was  little,  indeed, —  mostly  codfish,  bread,  and  cheese. 
But  "  gavots  "  are  satisfied  with  little;  and  so  long  as  the 
wine  and  bread  last  they  do  not  worry.  This  coarse  diet 
agrees  with  them,  for  when  they  come  down  in  the 
spring  they  are  thin,  lank,  and  pale ;  but  in  a  few  days, 
although  working  hard,  they  grow  fat  and  rosy. 


/,',v"^r "" 

ih&TiL  A\I* 


jf*-j^PB- 


A  Blind  Man's  Story  149 

"  Batiste  was  headstrong.  For  him  to  stoop  was  seldom 
a  pleasant  task.  His  ribs  must  have  run  lengthwise,  like 
a  wolf 's ;  at  times  you  would  have  thought  he  had  swal 
lowed  a  sword,  so  hard  was  it  for  him  to  stoop  and  handle 
the  spade.  Louiset,  on  the  contrary,  was  good,  a  hard 
worker,  and,  although  younger  by  two  years  than  his 
brother,  he  kept  up  with  him  in  the  work.  He  was,  on 
that  account,  better  liked  than  Batiste. 

"  In  the  country  a  well-known  blind  man  went  about 
begging,  led  by  a  small  boy.  Everybody  gave  him  alms 
out  of  pity.  He  had  his  regular  stopping-places  in  his 
circuit,  of  which  Baumel  farm  was  one.  There  he  was 
always  sure  of  a  night's  rest  in  the  barn  loft. 

"  Our  two  gavots  were  occupying  it  one  summer  night, 
when  in  came  the  blind  beggar  and  his  boy. 

"  'Say,  Birele/  broke  out  the  blind  man,  '  let  us  count 
our  money  and  see  how  much  we  have  taken  in  to-day.' 

"  The  boy  began  counting,  and  soon  announced  the 
result ;  eleven  francs  and  ten  centimes. 

"  '  We  are  not  rich,'  said  the  old  man. 

"  'But,  grandfather,'  said  the  boy, '  in  the  sack  there 
must  be  at  least  fifteen  sous'  worth  of  bread.' 

"'Oh!  that  is  only  eleven  francs  seventeen  sous;  it  is 
small  pay  for  our  work,'  replied  the  blind  man. 

"  Batiste,  who  had  been  listening  to  their  conversation, 
broke  out : 

" '  You  don't  think  eleven  francs  seventeen  sous  is 
enough  for  your  work  ?  Why,  my  brother  and  I  work 


150  Tales  of  Languedoc 

from  early  dawn  until  dark  for  five  francs,  and  out  of 
that  we  must  feed  ourselves ;  while  you,  I  am  sure,  have 
not  spent  a  sou  for  anything.' 

"'Yes,  I  bought  two  sous'  worth  of  tobacco;  no  one  is 
without  his  weakness,  you  know.  But  what  we  shall 
eat  is  a  matter  of  no  concern  to  us.  We  are  given  soup, 
ragout,  the  remains  of  dinners,  and  all  the  wine  we 
want.  But  I  seldom  take  wine ;  it  does  not  agree 
with  me.  They  give  us  also  money;  some  one,  some 
two  sous.  The  days  are  long;  we  beg  at  every  door, 
and  thus  fill  up  our  purse.  Nevertheless,  I  am  not 
satisfied  with  my  day's  work;  it  is  one  of  the 
poorest. 

"'At  the  fair  of  Anduze,  I  have  made  as  much  as 
thirty-two  francs ;  on  the  market  of  St.  Hypolite,  twenty- 
eight  ;  at  the  Fete  of  Lezan,  twenty-two.  But  the  most 
I  have  ever  made  was  at  the  Pilgrimage  of  Notre  Dame 
de  Prime  Combe.  I  received,  in  sous,  fifty-three  francs 
eleven  sous.  You  see,  people  under  strong  religious 
emotion  are  unthinking,  and  very  generous.  There  is 
also  much  to  be  made  at  Notre  Dame  de  St.  Loup,  at  St. 
Gervasy,  and  other  places.  We  don't  miss  a  single 
religious  fete.  It  is  necessary,  you  see,  to  put  something 
by  for  old  age,  and  to  dot  one's  children.  Each  one 
must  fight  his  battles  in  the  world  as  best  he  can,  and, 
blind  as  I  am,  what  could  I  do?  My  trade,  after  all,  is 
worth  another  man's.' 

"  Batiste  opened  his  eyes  as  big  as  saucers ;  he  could 


A  Blind  Man's  Story  153 

not  sleep  that  night.     The  next  day,  when  they  were  at 
dinner,  he  said  to  his  brother : 

" '  Did  you  hear  what  the  blind  beggar  said  last  night? 
His  is  a  good  business  —  twenty -three,  twenty -eight, 
thirty-two,  fifty-three  francs  in  one  day  !  Good  gracious! 
And  who  knows  if  he  tells  the  whole  truth  ?  If  he  lives 
a  few  more  years  he  will  have  a  fortune. 

"  *  To  put  fifty  francs  aside  it  takes  us  at  least  a  month, 
and  the  weather  has  to  be  fine  every  day  for  that  —  if  it 
rains,  we  are  behind  hand ;  while  he,  rain  or  shine,  takes 
in  money.' 

"  Louiset,  who  was  asleep  during  the  talk  between  his 
brother  and  the  beggar,  was  much  surprised  to  hear 
this,  and  for  a  while  was  quite  undone.  After  a  mo 
ment's  reflection,  he  said  to  his  brother : 

" '  Certainly  you  are  right;  his  business  is  better  than 
ours.  But  he  is  blind,  and  we  are  not.  To  each  one  his 
lot  on  earth;  and  Father  Gregoire  told  me  for  my  first 
communion,  that  God  had  assigned  to  each  one  his  work 
in  the  world,  and  we  should  never  complain.' 

" '  Father  Gregoire !  Father  Gregoire! '  cried  Batiste, '  if 
he  was  obliged  to  work  as  we  do  from  morning  till  night, 
to  live  on  codfish  the  year  round,  and  never  rest  except 
on  a  rainy  day  —  well,  Father  Gregoire  would  change 
his  mind,  I  am  sure,  and  speak  differently.  If  you  are 
willing,  we  can  find  means  to  live  without  working.' 

"'How  so?  and  what  must  we  do  for  that?'  said 
Louiset. 


154  Tales  of  Languedoc 

"  '  If  you  like,  I  will  put  out  your  eyes;  we  will  travel 
and  beg,  as  the  blind  man  does,  and  we  shall  have  as 
much  money  as  he  has.' 

" '  But  you  will  hurt  me.' 

"  'Oh  no;  you  will  not  feel  it.'  And  so  saying,  Batiste 
took  out  of  the  fireplace  a  pine  stick,  and  before  Louiset 
had  time  to  refuse  his  consent,  thrust  it  into  one  of  his 
eyes. 

"'Ouch!  Ouch!'  shrieked  Louiset;  and  while  he 
screamed  "  Ouch,"  his  brother  took  another  burning  stick 
and  thrust  it  into  the  other  eye. 

"The  shrieks  of  the  poor  boy  could  be  heard  a  mile 
off.  He  was  wild  with  pain.  He  stamped  and  foamed  in 
his  agony,  his  face  bleeding,  his  features  convulsed.  At 
this  heartrending  crisis,  Batiste,  in  the  coolest,  calmest 
way,  said  to  his  brother: 

"'Come,  now,  don't  make  such  a  fuss  for  so  little.  I 
will  apply  a  linseed  poultice;  it  will  relieve  the  pain  ;  you 
will  soon  be  healed.' 

"Madame  Granier,  who  had  heard  his  groans,  came  in 
haste.  When  she  saw  him,  she  exclaimed : 

"  'My  poor  boy,  what  has  happened  to  you  ?   Tell  me.' 

"  Batiste  hastened  to  answer  for  him  :  '  He  climbed  on 

yonder  tree,'  he  said,  'to   get  a  nest  of  starlings,  and 

he  fell  on  a  brier-bush,  and  the  thorns,  I  fear,  have  put 

out  his  eyes.' 

"Madame  Granier  quickly   sent   for    her   physician, 
and  while  waiting   for  him,  she   applied  sweet  lard  to 


A  Blind  Man's  Story  155 

Louiset's  eyes,  and  did  all  she  could  to  relieve  his 
suffering. 

"The  physician  came,  examined  his  patient,  and  said : 

" '  His  eyes  are  damaged ;  they  will  still  be  pretty  to 
look  at,  but  the  sight  is  destroyed.  The  thin  skin  of  the 
pupil  is  gone;  there  is  nothing  to  be  done  —  the  boy 
will  be  blind.' 

" '  Poor  boy,'  people  said ;  '  such  a  fine  fellow  to  be 
blind  for  life!' 

"  '  It  is  awful !  If  such  an  accident  had  happened  to 
his  brother,  we  would  not  feel  so  sad ;  for  he  is  such  a 
mean  fellow.  But  Louiset — poor  Louis — good  Louiset!' 

"  And,  by  way  of  comment,  an  old  peasant  added : 

"'Anything  would  happen  in  this  world,  even  to  the 
death  of  a  poor  man's  donkey,  sooner  than  any  mishap 
to  such  a  tough  as  Batiste.' 

"  The  physician  treated  the  eyes  the  best  he  knew  how, 
made  the  boy  wear  a  bandage  over  them  to  keep  out  the 
light,  in  case  the  sight  was  not  totally  destroyed,  and  in 
three  weeks  the  pain  was  gone;  but  the  boy  was  entirely 
blind. 

"All  in  the  village  took  pity  on  him  during  his  sickness. 
They  provided  for  all  his  wants,  and  more,  too.  He,  who 
had  never  been  invited  to  sit  at  the  table  of  any  one  in 
the  village,  was  feasted  like  a  king.  He  received  atten 
tion  and  kindness,  to  which,  as  a  human  being,  he  was 
entitled  before,  but  which  no  one  thought  of  giving  until 
his  misfortune. 


156  Tales  of  Languedoc 

"The  first  emotion  over,  the  villagers  relapsed  into 
their  old  somnolence,  and  Batiste  and  Louiset  were  at 
last  obliged  to  carry  out  their  plan. 

"  So,  one  morning  they  set  out  for  a  neighboring  vil 
lage,  begging,  for  God's  sake,  from  door  to  door. 

"'Douna  me  quicon,  seouple,  quicon  aou  paoure 
avugle,  per  1'amour  d'aou  boun  Diou,'  plaintively 
entreated  Louiset. 

"'Gramerci,  que  lou  boun  D'iou  vou  lou  refide  e  vou 
benigue,'  added  Louiset.* 

"  On  seeing  so  young  a  lad  in  so  sad  a  predicament, 
every  housewife  gave  them  alms.  The  first  day  they 
made  fifteen  francs  thirteen  sous,  and  in  the  evening 
Batiste  said  to  Louiset : 

"  'You  see  what  a  sum  we  have.  To  earn  that  much 
we  should  have  had  to  work  three  days.  If  this  keeps 
up,  we  shall  have  a  good  business.' 

"  It  kept  up,  and  Batiste  was  full  of  care  and  kindness 
for  his  brother.  He  looked  after  all  his  wants,  seeing 
that  he  lacked  nothing.  The  best  morsels  given  them 
were  for  Louiset.  Every  evening  they  counted  their 
receipts,  which  kept  increasing,  and  in  a  few  weeks  their 
purse  was  quite  large.  Week  by  week,  and  month  by 
month,  their  fortune  swelled,  and  by  the  end  of  the  sec 
ond  year  they  had  one  hundred  ecus  to  their  names. 

*  "  Give  me  something,  if  you  please,  something  for  the  poor  blind  man, 
for  God's  sake." 

"Many  thanks;  may  God  return  it  to  you  and  bless  you."  These  are  the 
words  of  entreaty  and  of  thanks  used  by  beggars  in  Southern  France. 


A  Blind  Man's  Story  157 

"  But  people  born  mean  will  sooner  or  later  follow  their 
inclinations.  Batiste  proved  no  exception ;  he  got  tired 
of  this  kind  of  life.  '  To  act  as  if  one  were  poor,  and 
yet  be  rich,  that  will  not  do,'  he  was  always  saying  to 
himself;  'that  cannot  last.  One  hundred  ecus  is  a 
fortune.  If  I  had  not  to  drag  that  boy  from  door  to 
door,  I  would  go  into  some  town,  buy  an  old  nag  and 
cart,  and  peddle  charcoal.  I  would  soon  get  rich  at  that.' 

"  From  the  moment  he  began  reasoning  thus,  he  was 
not  the  same  man.  He  began  to  steal  from  his  brother 
half  the  alms,  and  when  a  choice  bit  was  given  them 
Batiste  no  longer  shared  it  with  his  brother,  but  ate  it 
all  himself.  Did  some  charitable  soul  give  Louiset  a 
good  coat,  Batiste  put  it  on,  and  the  blind  boy  went 
ragged.  Louiset  had  worn-out  shoes,  while  Batiste  was 
always  well  shod.  Kindness  and  tender  care  gave  way 
to  rough  talk  and  harsh  treatment,  and  many  petty 
indignities,  too  sad  to  relate,  were  heaped  upon  Louiset 
by  his  brother. 

"  Louiset  could  not  see  it  all,  but  he  felt  that  he  was 
not  treated  right;  and  one  day  something  happened 
which  occasioned  a  complete  rupture.  At  the  door  of  a 
nice  house  a  large  piece  of  omelet  was  given  them  —  a 
delicious,  golden-brown  omelet,  warm  and  fragrant — the 
odor  would  have  revived  a  dead  person.  Batiste  ate  it 
all  himself,  and,  taking  Louiset  by  the  hand,  said : 
'  Come  along.' 

"  Unfortunately  for  Batiste,  Louiset  had  a  good  nose, 


158  Tales  of  Languedoc 

and  the  odor  of  the  omelet  made  his  mouth  water.  So 
he  said :  '  Give  me  a  piece  of  that  omelet ;  it  smells  good 
and  must  be  delicious.' 

"'Who  told  you  I  had  any  omelet?'  gruffly  retorted 
Batiste. 

" '  Who  told  me  ?   I  smelt  it,'  rejoined  Louiset,  angrily. 

"Batiste  denied  having  had  any  omelet;  but  Louiset 
felt  sure  that  he  had,  and  that  he  was  deceiving  him. 
Then  he  reproached  his  brother  for  causing  his  blind 
ness,  accused  him  of  robbing  him  and  getting  rich  at 
his  expense,  called  him  a  good-for-nothing  fellow,  a 
rascal  and  a  rogue,  and  was  sure  that  God  would  punish 
his  villainy. 

"  Batiste  did  not  say  much,  but  he  was  provoked,  and 
promised  to  be  even  with  him  at  the  first  chance. 

"  That  evening,  on  leaving  the  village,  they  were  walk 
ing  along  a  foot-path  which  led  through  an  old  planta 
tion  of  fine  mulberry-trees,  whose  gnarled  trunks  showed 
their  great  age,  when  suddenly  it  occurred  to  Batiste 
that  the  spot  was  a  favorable  one  to  play  a  trick  on  his 
brother.  He  led  him  within  two  feet  of  one  of  the 
oldest  and  knottiest  of  the  mulberry-trees,  and  told  him 
to  make  a  great  leap  to  clear  the  ditch  in  front  of  him. 
The  poor  blind  boy  did  as  he  was  told,  and  jumping 
with  all  his  might,  knocked  his  nose  against  the  tree, 
bruising  his  face  frightfully. 

" '  Unnatural  brother !  Miserable  villain  !  You  wretch  ! 
where  will  your  soul  go  to  ? '  cried  Louiset. 


A  Blind  Man's  Story  159 

"  Batiste  replied,  with  cold  brutality :  '  You  smelt  the 
omelet;  why  did  you  not  smell  the  tree?' 

"  From  that  time  on,  one  thought  possessed  Batiste — 
to  get  rid  of  his  brother.  How  to  do  it,  was  the  question. 
To  kill  him  would  be  a  risk  to  himself,  for  murder  will 
out ;  to  abandon  him  might  be  worse,  for  surely  Louiset 
would  tell  how  his  brother  had  put  out  his  eyes ;  yet  he 
had  firmly  resolved  to  cease  dragging  the  boy  after  him. 

"  While  in  this  quandary  they  reached,  one  evening, 
the  very  spot  we  stand  on, —  the  country  looked  even 
wilder  and  more  deserted  than  now.  They  stopped  under 
the  tree,  and  Batiste  thought  to  himself: 

" '  Let  me  leave  him  here  to-night ;  some  wild  animal 
prowling  about  will  surely  devour  him,  and  no  one  will 
be  there  to  tell  the  tale.' 

"Batiste  never  slept  over  an  evil  thought — it  would 
have  been  better  for  him  if  he  had, —  and  at  once  set  out 
to  carry  out  his  plan. 

"  'Sit  under  this  tree,  Louiset,  and  wait  for  me ;  I  will 
soon  be  back/  he  said.  Louiset  sat  under  the  tree  and 
patiently  waited  ;  his  infirmity  had  taught  him  patience. 
He  waited  half  an  hour,  an  hour,  and  then  began  call 
ing,  'Batiste!  Batiste!'  but  Batiste  made  no  reply. 
Growing  impatient,  Louiset  called  louder  and  louder, 
but  the  hills  alone  answered  him.  In  the  stillness  that 
followed  the  echo  of  his  voice,  solitude  was  deep  upon 
him.  A  chill  crept  over  him  as  the  thought  flashed 
to  his  mind,  and  he  realized  that  he  was  abandoned  and 


160  Tales  of  Languedoc 

left  to  perish  alone  in  a  great  forest.  His  soul  became 
a  prey,  in  turn,  to  terror  and  anger,  to  utter  dejection  and 
despair.  His  head  in  his  hands,  crouched  under  the  big 
tree,  big  tears  left  the  sightless  eyes  of  the  poor  beggar  boy. 
Night  overtook  him  in  that  position,  and  a  distant  roar 
warned  him  of  danger  near.  The  instinct  of  self-preserva 
tion  gives  courage  to  the  most  downcast  of  human  hearts ; 
it  filled  Louiset  with  a  sudden  desire  to  live  longer.  He 
sprang  up,  and  tried  to  grasp  the  tree  to  climb  it,  but 
failed  ;  then,  with  the  crook  of  his  cane,  he  felt  for  a  low 
branch  that  he  might  pull  within  reach.  He  succeeded, 
and,  being  nimble  and  agile,  was  soon  perched  on  a  high 
bough  in  the  thick  of  the  tree.  He  was  none  too  soon ; 
a  wild  boar  grunted  at  the  foot  of  the  tree.  '  Ah  ! '  said 
Louiset,  with  revived  hope  and  a  tinge  of  pleasure, '  what 
a  fine  morsel  I  would  have  been  for  that  fellow.' 

"  Just  then  the  deafening  tramp  of  thousands  of  ani 
mals  was  heard ;  they  were  coming  from  all  directions, 
and  gathering  under  the  tree. 

"  In  the  midst  of  that  immense  herd,  with  its  confused 
sounds,  the  roar  of  a  lion  could  be  distinctly  heard. 

"They  greeted  each  other  as  they  came, —  animals 
spoke  in  those  days, —  inquiring  after  each  other's  health 
and  about  the  ladies  and  the  young  ones  left  at 
home.  They  paid  compliments,  and  kept  up  a  buzz  of 
conversation  which  reached  Louiset's  ears  as  articulate 
sounds,  but  too  indistinct  to  be  intelligible. 

"Louiset  kept  still  on  his  branch,  as  though  he  was 


A  Blind  Man's  Story  163 

petrified.  His  great  fear  was  now  to  be  discovered.  To 
be  discovered,  indeed  meant  death,  and  a  horrible  death, 
at  that. 

"When  all  the  denizens  of  the  forest  had  gathered 
under  the  tree,  and  the  tumultuous  enthusiasm  of  the 
first  hour  had  toned  down,  one  of  the  crowd  struck  his 
paws  for  order  and  demanded  silence.  The  confusion, 
as  is  customary  in  such  cases,  increased  for  a  few  sec 
onds,  as  each  one  of  the  animals  seated  himself  on  his 
haunches ;  then  all  became  still,  and  the  lion,  in  a  bass 
voice,  said : 

"  '  Friends,  you  know  that  we  have  not  much  time  to 
give  to  our  annual  gathering ;  we  have  to  retire  before 
daybreak,  and  some  of  us  have  come  from  very  far;  so 
let  us  begin.  What  happened  at  Montpelier?' 

" '  Dame  Zebelin,  the  widow  of  Mr.  Zebelin,  the  fox,  so 
well  known  by  us,  and  so  much  dreaded  by  the  chickens, 
was  killed  last  week  by  her  demented  son.  It  is  very 
sad,  for  she  leaves  three  young  orphans,  who  will  fall  a 
prey  to  the  dogs  of  the  neighborhood  unless  we  try  to 
protect  them/  said  a  voice. 

'"Let  all  the  foxes  of  that  district  keep  an  eye  on  the 
little  foxes/  roared  the  lion.  '  Anything  else  ?  ' 

"'The  youngest  daughter  of  Mr.  Catalan,  the  wolf, 
has  eloped;  her  mother  is  heart-broken/  said  a  voice 
from  the  crowd. 

"'When?  when?' 

" '  No  later  than  yesterday.' 


164.  Tales  of  Languedoc 

"'With  whom? — with  a  young  wolf  in  the  neighbor 
hood  ? ' 

" '  No,  indeed ;  with  an  old  fellow  who  has  a  large 
family  of  children,  who  is  old  and  ugly,  bob-tailed,  and 
blind  in  one  eye.  His  oldest  son  is  after  them,  and,  as 
he  is  in  love  with  the  girl  himself,  he  will  make  it  hot 
for  the  old  man  if  he  catches  them.' 

"  'And  he  will  serve  him  right  —  it  is  a  disgrace  to  the 
animal  family/  several  said  at  once. 

"  '  That  is  a  good  illustration  of  the  proverb : 

"  '  Fias  prSstas  a  marida 

Michan  troupel  a  garda,'  "  * 

chimed  in  an  old  veteran,  who  was  wearing  a  bandage 
over  one  eye. 

" '  What  is  the  matter  with  your  eye,  Brother  Groug- 
nare?'  inquired  the  lion. 

" '  I  have  been  driven  from  my  lair  so  often  of  late  by 
old  Samalin's  dogs  that  for  a  month  I  have  slept  with 
one  eye  open,  and,  no  doubt,  have  strained  my  eyesight. 
On  my  word,  I  believe  I  'm  growing  blind! ' 

" '  I  know  what  will  cure  you/  said  a  falsetto  voice, 
which  Louiset  thought  must  be  a  marten's. 

"  They  all  turned  towards  the  last  speaker,  and  an  in 
credulous  smile  wrinkled  the  scarred  face  of  the  old  vet 
eran  of  the  woods. 

"  '  What  can  you  know,  youngster,  that  I  don't  know?' 
contemptuously  asked  the  old  boar. 

*  Daughter  of  a  marriageable  age,  bad  flock  to  watch.— Proverb  of  Lan 
guedoc. 


A  Blind  Man's  Story  165 

"  '  I  know/  piped  the  marten,  while  his  tail  was  nerv 
ously  switching  the  ground, '  I  know  that  the  leaves  of 
this  tree  will  cure  sore  eyes.  Just  rub  them  over  your 
eyes  for  twenty  minutes  and  see !  Mother  told  me  before 
she  died  that  they  had  been  known  even  to  restore  sight 
to  the  blind.' 

'"That's  so,'  said  a  sly  old  fellow  in  a  tremulous 
voice;  'your  mother  and  I  were  of  an  age,  and  I  have 
known  of  the  curative  property  of  these  leaves  from  my 
earliest  youth;  but  I  never  mentioned  it — it  was  a 
great  secret — and  you  would  have  done  better,  young 
ster,  to  have  held  your  tongue.' 

"'Perhaps  so,'  said  the  marten;  'but  I  only  had  in 
view  to  help  a  suffering  brother — and,  then,  among  our 
selves,  we  ought  to  be  able  to  speak  out  freely  and  fear 
lessly.' 

"'Aye,  aye,  I  wish  it  so!'  said  the  same  tremulous 
voice.  '  But  remember,  youngster,  that  prudence  is  the 
mother  of  safety;  and  you  must  be  on  your  guard,  for 
here  stones  have  ears.' 

"  '  I  know  something,'  said  a  wolf  who  was  a  traveling 
musician;  'but  I  should  not  like  it  to  go  beyond  the 
present  company.' 

" '  Speak  without  fear,'  said  several  voices ;  '  we  will 
keep  your  secret.' 

" '  Well,  about  a  month  ago  I  was  in  Corconne,  playing 
the  clarinet  for  a  country  dance.  The  day  was  hot,  and 
my  throat  was  parched  ;  I  was  actually  dying  of  thirst. 


1 66  Tales  of  Languedoc 

I  asked  one  of  the  dancers  for  a  glass  of  water.  He 
laughed  in  my  face,  asked  me  where  I  was  born,  and 
whether  I  had  cut  my  eye-teeth.  "  Don't  you  know," 
added  he,  "  that  in  Corconne  chickens  die  of  the  pip  for 
the  lack  of  water?'" 

"  'They  brought  me  a  glass  of  wine.  I  drank  it,  and  it 
made  me  more  thirsty  yet.  After  the  fiftieth  dance,  dry, 
hot,  and  out  of  wind,  I  strolled  out,  and  chanced  to  stop 
under  an  old,  half-dead  cherry-tree,  to  cool  off.  Now, 
you  all  know  that  I  inherited  from  my  father  the  gift 
of  finding  water ;  that  with  my  foot  I  can  tell  where  a 
spring  is,  how  deep  in  the  earth  it  is,  how  much  water 
it  will  yield,  and  all  about  it.  Well,  I  was  hardly  under 
that  old,  half-rotten  tree,  when  my  foot  struck  it.  The 
current  was  so  strong  that  it  made  me  dance  a  jig  on 
the  spot,  tired  as  I  was. 

'"The  dancers  looked  amused,  and  said  I  had  gone 
crazy,  but  I  held  my  peace.  If  they  had  not  killed  so 
many  of  my  kind,  I  would  have  told  them  all  about  the 
spring ;  but  now  I  want  it  kept  a  secret.  Nevertheless, 
whoever  finds  the  spring  will  confer  a  great  boon  to 
Corconne.  Now,  all  of  you  keep  mum  about  it,  will 
you?' 

"  '  We  shall,  we  shall,'  shouted  they  all. 

"  There  was  a  moment's  silence,  then  a  voice,  which 
might  be  the  fox's,  said  :  '  Friends,  a  year  ago,  in  our 
annual  gathering  under  this  very  tree,  some  of  us  criti 
cised  the  medical  profession  as  more  baneful  to  mankind 


A  Blind  Man's  Story  167 

than  we  to  chicken -coops;  and  yet  I  believe  that  physi 
cians  are  improving  in  their  methods,  and  are  relieving 
suffering  humanity.  I  wish  we  could  take  pattern  after 
them,  and  study  the  art  of  curing  our  sick  brethren, 
especially  those  who  suffer  from  that  dread  disease  — 
consumption.  We  are  all  liable  to  it,  you  know,  on 
account  of  being  out  nights.' 

"  '  Not  all  animals  —  not  all  by  any  means !  Did 
you  ever  see  a  Billy  Goat  die  of  consumption?'  grunted, 
with  a  wink,  an  old  sinner  of  a  bear,  which  saying  raised 
a  general  laugh. 

" '  Yes,'  retorted  the  fox,  who  was  not  slow  at  repartee, 
'  when  you  get  him  in  your  embrace,  Master  Bear,  he 
does  usually  die  of  consumption.1 

"  The  audience  fairly  roared.  The  bear  gave  a  tre 
mendous  grunt,  and  looked  his  meanest  at  the  fox,  while 
the  lion  rapped  for  order. 

"From  the  middle  of  the  crowd  arose  an  old  patriarch, 
who,  with  calm  dignity,  said: 

"'You  have  just  heard  from  the  lips  of  our  cunning 
brother,  the  fox,  that  physicians  had  greatly  improved, 
and  could  cure  almost  anything;  but  I  tell  you  they  do 
not,  and  there  is  a  man  who  has  very  little  faith  in  them.' 

"'Who  is  that?'  asked  several  voices  at  once. 

" '  Mr.  Duran  Palerme,  Marquis  de  Castrie.  Go  and  ask 
his  opinion  of  physicians;  he  will  tell  you  a  different 
story. 

"'His  only  daughter  has  been  ill  ever  since  she  left 


1 68  Tales  of  Languedoc 

her  convent.  She  has  been  treated  by  all  the  physicians 
of  Lyon,  Marseilles,  Montpelier,  Toulouse,  and  Paris,  but 
no  one  has  found  what  is  the  matter  with  her.  They 
have  treated  her  for  all  kinds  of  diseases;  she  has  swal 
lowed  tons  of  drugs,  and  has  cost  her  father  a  fortune. 
She  is  about  nineteen  years  old,  and  would  be  pretty  if 
she  were  not  so  thin ;  but  she  is  fast  losing  strength,  and 
cannot  live  long. 

"'  Her  father  has  offered  her  in  marriage  to  any  young 
physician  who  will  cure  her;  but  so  far  no  one  has  suc 
ceeded  in  curing  her.' 

"'I  know  what  ails  her,' said  another;  'but  it  is  a 
secret  known  only  to  myself  and  an  old  servant  of  the 
Marquis,  whom  he  had  dismissed  just  before  the  girl's 
illness.  This  old  woman  is  in  her  dotage,  and  often 
thinks  aloud.  One  day,  as  I  was  hiding  near  her  hut,  I 
overheard  her  muttering  to  herself  about  the  cause  of 
the  disease;  and  she  chuckled  with  ghoulish  glee  at  the 
near  death  of  the  young  lady.' 

" '  Will  she  not  relent  in  the  presence  of  death  ?  ' 

"  'No;  the  old  wench  will  not  relent,  even  in  the  pres 
ence  of  death.  You  may  depend  on  it,  her  heart  is 
parched  —  lost  to  all  humane  feelings.' 

"'Well,  what  ails  the  girl?  Let  us  know  it,'  the 
meeting  inquired,  their  curiosity  at  its  height. 

" '  Not  much,  after  all.  Under  the  left  breast  there 
is  a  lump  as  big  as  an  almond,  which  drains  her  life- 
blood  and  exhausts  her  strength.  If  the  lump  were 


A  Blind  Man's  Story  169 

removed  with  some  sharp  instrument,  she  would  be  well 
within  a  month.  No  physician  has  ever  seen  it.  It  does 
not  pain  her,  and  she  has  not  thought  of  mentioning  it 
to  any  one.  A  maid-servant,  who  is  something  of  a  witch, 
discovered  the  lump  while  undressing  her,  and  knew 
that  some  day  she  would  have  trouble  with  it.' 

"  'That  is  strange,  indeed.  How  many  diseases  the  flesh 
is  heir  to ! '  philosophically  remarked  an  old  veteran 
marauder  who  sat  near  the  lion.  '  But  it  is  now  early 
dawn,  and  I  would  advise  a  speedy  retreat  into  the  thick 
of  the  forest.' 

"  They  all  arose,  and  the  gathering  broke  up,  with 
the  understanding  that  they  should  meet  next  year  on 
the  same  spot. 

"  For  some  time  this  great  scattering  of  animals  in  all 
directions,  in  the  stillness  of  early  dawn,  was  something 
weird  and  awful.  There  was  a  rustling  of  dead  leaves, 
a  cracking  of  branches,  and  the  general  stampede  seemed 
to  give  life  to  every  bush  within  miles  around.  Little 
by  little,  however,  the  noise  receded,  growing  fainter 
and  fainter  to  the  ears  of  Louiset,  until  only  now  and 
then  was  heard  the  cracking  of  branches  in  the  distance; 
then  all  was  still.  Half  an  hour  after  the  meeting  broke 
up,  Nature  resumed  her  wonted  stillness,  and  the 
most  profound  silence  reigned  over  the  primeval  forest — 
silence  the  more  impressive,  that  it  succeeded  the  noisy 
tramp  of  ten  thousand  four-footed  beasts,  and  preceded 
the  awakening  of  sleeping  Nature.  The  lull  was  soon 


170  Tales  of  Languedoc 

over.  Louiset  heard  a  lark,  and  a  melodious  note  pro 
claimed  to  the  winged  denizens  of  the  woods  the  dawn 
of  a  new  day.  A  thousand  little  throats  answered, 
the  woods  became  astir  with  life,  the  sun  kissed  the  dew 
and  dried  every  tear  from  the  leaves,  the  flowers  sent 
up  their  fragrance — night  was  gone. 

"  Louiset  was  a  country  boy,  and  had  seldom  missed 
a  sunrise.  He  knew  all  the  infallible  signs  of  the  dawn, 
and,  stretching  his  benumbed  limbs,  he  began  to  breathe 
more  freely.  He  had  not  slept  that  night,  I  assure  you ; 
but  he  had  been  a  very  attentive  listener  to  the  discus 
sions  of  the  assemblage  below. 

"  The  revelation  made  by  the  marten  filled  his  heart 
with  hope.  Oh,  if  it  only  might  be  true  that  the 
leaves  of  the  tree  which  sheltered  him  could  restore  his 
sight,  how  thankful  he  would  be !  His  night  of  anxiety 
on  the  high  perch  would  prove  a  great  blessing.  He 
lost  no  time,  you  may  be  sure,  in  feeling  with  the  sensi 
tive  fingers  of  a  blind  man  for  the  finest  and  softest 
leaves  with  which  to  rub  his  eyes. 

"About  fifteen  minutes  after  he  began  rubbing,  he  saw 
stars  twinkling  like  diamonds  through  the  leaves.  That 
gave  him  courage ;  he  kept  rubbing,  and  soon  made  out 
the  tree,  then  the  woods,  the  road  below,  the  beautiful 
sun,  which  had  been  eclipsed  for  so  long ;  finally  the 
least  object  about  him  became  visible.  With  a  joyous 
shout  and  a  thankful  heart,  he  jumped  to  the  ground, 
found  his  bearings,  and,  with  a  song  on  his  lips,  set  out 
for  the  nearest  village. 


A  Blind  Man's  Story  171 

"On  the  way,  he  looked  himself  over,  and  found  his 
clothes  all  rags  and  tatters,  his  sho'SS  worn  out,  his  hat 
brimless,  and  he  the  very  picture  of  destitution.  His 
brother  had  taken  all  the  money  but  fifty  francs,  which 
he  must  have  left  by  mistake.  Fifty  francs  was  not  too 
much  to  refit  him  with  good  clothes ;  but  he  would  not 
go  to  the  best  tailor  —  some  second-hand  clothes  would 
do,  for  he  must  make  the  small  sum  go  as  far  as  possible. 

"  Late  in  the  afternoon  he  reached  a  small  town,  where 
he  inquired  for  a  dealer  in  old  clothes,  and  purchased  a 
good-looking  suit  and  a  pair  of  shoes.  He  washed  and 
brushed  himself,  then  went  to  an  inn  for  his  dinner.  He 
partook  of  an  omelet  as  a  reminder  of  his  ill-luck,  and 
treated  himself  to  coffee  and  cigars  in  honor  of  his  good 
fortune.  Although  Louiset  was  only  a  peasant, he  had  seen 
and  observed  good  manners,  and  he  sipped  his  coffee 
and  lounged  at  his  smoke  as  any  gentleman  would  have 
done.  There  was  no  doubt  about  it,  he  was  enjoying  the 
new  role  immensely.  Escaping  from  the  jaws  of  death, 
as  it  were,  he  could  not  be  more  exultant  over  the  turn 
in  his  luck.  But  Louiset  was  also  a  shrewd  fellow.  He 
remembered  what  Mr.  Wolf  and  Mr.  Fox  had  said  about 
the  great  price  the  villagers  of  Corconne  would  pay  for 
water,  and  the  rich  marriage  in  store  for  the  young  man 
who  could  cure  Miss  de  Palerme,  and  he  was  laying 
plans  to  carry  out  successfully  the  two  great  undertakings. 

"  His  coffee  drunk,  and  his  cigar  smoked,  he  retired  to 
his  room  and  thought  out  again  his  schemes,  and  was 


17  2  Tales  of  Languedoc 

in  the  act  of  marrying  Miss  de  Palerme,  when  sleep 
overtook  him.  All  that  night  happy  dreams  hovered 
over  his  pillow,  and  the  sun  was  already  high  when  he 
awoke. 

"  Remembering  that  diligence  is  the  secret  of  success, 
he  quickly  dressed  and  breakfasted,  paid  his  hotel  bill 
with  his  last  sou,  and  set  out  for  Corconne,  gaunt  of 
wallet,  but  light  of  heart. 

"This  was  on  Sunday  morning,  and  he  reached  the 
village  in  question  as  the  last  church-bell  was  ringing. 
A  stream  of  people  were  pouring  into  the  church,  and 
Louiset  thought : 

" '  I  had  better  go  in  and  attend  the  service,  and  after 
church  I  will  speak  to  some  of  the  people  of  my  scheme 
to  furnish  the  village  with  water.' 

"  Dipping  his  finger  in  the  font,  he  crossed  himself, 
and  modestly  sat  on  a  bench  near  the  door. 

"  In  Corconne,  a  stranger  does  not  turn  up  oftener  than 
once  in  ten  years ;  so  his  presence  in  the  church  made 
a  sensation.  A  whisper  went  round,  people  turned  to 
look,  and  the  maidens  stared  at  the  stranger.  Even  the 
good  priest  noticed  him,  and,  with  native  courtesy,  shook 
him  by  the  hand,  and  invited  him  to  a  better  seat.  Still 
more,  he  urged  him  to  join  the  choir. 

" '  I  am  not  a  fine  singer,'  said  Louiset ;  '  but  I  can 
sing  a  little.' 

"  The  priest  led  him  to  the  front  row  of  the  choir,  and 
he  did  his  best  to  sing;  but  they  all  sang  out  of  tune,  and 


A  Blind  Man's  Story  175 

Louiset  could  only  keep  time  to  the  chorister  with 
his  features.  He  did  not  know  how  they  would 
like  this  kind  of  pantomime,  and  was  frightened 
when  he  saw  the  priest  coming  to  him  after  service. 
The  latter  did  not  notice  his  blushes,  complimented 
his  singing,  and  asked  him  to  dine. 

"  Louiset  thanked  the  priest,  and  accepted  his  invita 
tion  with  pleasure,  since  he  was  penniless  and  eager  to 
talk  to  some  one  of  his  mission. 

"At  table,  after  the  bouillon,  Father  Poumier,  who 
was  a  solid  drinker,  said:  '  Let  us  drink  a  glass  of  claret,' 
and  he  poured  the  glasses  full  to  the  brim.  Louiset 
thought  his  chance  had  come,  and  said  : 

"'Father  Poumier,  lam  not  much  of  a  drinker;  I 
would  prefer  a  glass  of  water.' 

"'Water!'  exclaimed  the  priest;  'it  is  water  you 
want !  Rather  ask  for  the  jewels  of  the  king's 
crown  than  water  in  Corconne!  "Water  is  what  we 
lack  most;  and  if  any  one  could  find  a  spring  in 
the  village,  the  mayor  would  pay  him  a  handsome 
price.' 

"'Do  you  really  think  they  would  pay  the  man  well 
who  should  find  a  spring?'  and  Louiset  scanned  the 
priest's  face. 

"  '  Indeed  they  would  ! '  was  the  earnest  reply. 

"'"Well,  Father  Poumier,  I  must  inform  you  that  I 
came  for  110  other  purpose  than  to  furnish  water  to  the 
people  of  this  village.' 


Tales  of  Languedoc 

"'Why,  do  you  mean  it?  And  how  did  you  know 
we  lacked  water  ?  Are  you  a  wizard  ? ' 

" '  Perhaps,  sir.' 

" '  Well,  I  warn  you  that  they  will  not  fork  over  the 
money  until  they  see  the  water  gushing  through  the 
street.  Large  sums  have  been  paid  to  hundreds  of  men 
who  claimed  to  be  water-witches,  and  we  have  dug  up 
every  foot  of  our  public  square,  and  many  of  the  private 
yards,  all  without  getting  a  drop  of  water.' 

" '  If  I  promise  to  find  you  a  spring,  I  will  find  one ; 
you  may  depend  on  it.' 

" '  Very  well ;  after  dinner  we  will  step  over  to  the 
mayor's  —  or  rather  let  me  send  for  him — '  and  calling 
a  servant :  '  Please  go  ask  the  mayor  to  call  here  before 
going  to  the  cafe ;  he  will  take  coffee  with  us.' 

"  The  mayor  came,  and  they  talked  the  matter  over 
(that  goes  without  saying);  but  the  agreement  they 
came  to  was  this:  The  Commune  would  furnish  four 
men  and  all  the  tools  necessary  to  dig  where  Louiset 
should  direct;  and  when  the  villagers  had  all  the  water 
they  wanted  to  use,  Louiset  was  to  receive  ten  thousand 
francs,  in  three  payments. 

"The  next  day  being  Monday,  the  four  men  went 
forth  with  their  spades  and  picks,  followed  by  the 
villagers,  to  the  public  square.  Everybody  was  dying 
to  know  where  the  stranger  would  break  ground ;  and 
everybody  was  giving  his  or  her  opinion,  as  usual  in 
such  a  crowd,  when  Louiset  appeared,  and  going  straight 
to  the  old  cherry-tree,  gave  orders  to  dig  it  up. 


A  Blind  Man's  Story  179 

"  The  ground  around  the  old  tree  had  never  felt  a 
spade,  and  the  men  had  to  use  their  picks.  By  nightfall 
they  had  only  uncovered  the  first  roots.  The  next  day 
they  removed  all  those  which  radiated  from  the  stump, 
and  they  found  the  tree  held  by  a  single  long  tap-root. 
This  proved  that  the  tree  had  never  been  transplanted, 
but  had  grown  on  the  same  spot  —  a  question  which 
had  long  divided  the  village  squabblers,  and  feeling  ran 
high  between  the  '  I  told  you  so,'  and  the  '  I  never  said 
it,'  folks. 

:<At  the  root  of  the  tree  was  a  large,  round  stone.  Two 
or  three  times  this  stone  had  blunted  the  axe  of  the 
workman.  Louiset  gave  orders  to  remove  it.  The  four 
men  worked  hard  with  crowbars.  They  pried  it  on  all 
sides ;  they  tried  to  lift  it,  and  were  about  to  give  it  up, 
when  suddenly  it  was  thrown  up ;  a  stream  of  water, 
three  feet  high  and  three  feet  in  diameter,  washed  the 
four  men  out  of  the  hole,  and  threatened  to  inundate 
the  whole  village ! 

"  Everybody  shouted :    '  A  miracle !     A  miracle ! ' 

"The  mayor,  the  priest,  the  municipal  council,  all 
agreed  to  raise  at  once  the  promised  sum.  A  great  feast 
was  given  in  honor  of  the  event,  and  Louiset  was  treated 
magnificently. 

"  The  people  of  Corconne  have  since  erected  a  monu 
mental  fountain  on  the  spot  where  the  old  cherry-tree 
grew,  and  they  have  come  to  drink  more  water  and  less 
wine. 


180  Tales  of  Languedoc 

"  Our  Louiset,  once  in  possession  of  the  ten  thousand 
francs,  returned  to  town,  and  purchased  a  beautiful  car 
riage  and  fine  team,  besides  fitting  himself  with  a  hand 
some  suit  of  clothes,  silk  hat  and  gloves,  a  physician's 
case,  and  a  cane.  Thus  transformed,  he  seated  himself 
in  his  equipage,  powdered  and  spectacled,  and  ordered 
his  coachman  to  drive  him  to  the  castle  of  Fourmagne. 

"But  oh,  misfortune!  A  calamity  had  befallen  the 
castle !  All  was  commotion.  The  servants  were  coming 
and  going,  with  sober  faces  and  tearful  eyes.  Perceiv 
ing  something  unusual  as  he  drove  up,  Louiset  asked 
what  had  happened.  He  was  told  by  the  servants  that 
their  beloved  young  mistress  had  just  died.  He  an 
nounced  himself  as  a  physician,  and  begged  to  see  their 
master  at  once.  Without  delay,  he  was  taken  to  the 
sick  room.  What  he  saw  there  moved  him  almost  to 
tears. 

"  In  a  large,  beautiful  arm-chair,  which  had  held  the 
dying  forms  of  many  ancestors,  lay  the  maiden,  wrapped 
in  an  elegant  peignoir,  her  head  resting  on  a  down  pillow. 
She  was,  to  all  appearance,  lifeless,  and  her  father,  the 
Marquis,  was  tearing  his  hair,  wild  with  grief.  Her 
mother,  the  Marchioness,  was  lying  in  a  swoon,  with 
maids  trying  to  revive  her. 

"  Louiset  soon  recovered  from  his  emotion,  and  with  a 
coolness  that  would  have  done  credit  to  an  old  practi 
tioner,  he  proceeded  to  take  charge  of  the  case.  He  felt 
her  pulse,  and  found  none;  he  placed  his  ear  at  her  heart, 


A  Blind  Man's  Story  183 

and  perceived  a  slight  beating.  He  asked  for  a  hand 
glass,  and  brought  it  close  to  her  lips.  It  became  veiled 
with  a  slight,  a  very  slight  cloud.  Thus  convinced  that 
life  was  not  extinct,  he  spoke  in  a  commanding  tone,  at 
the  same  time  with  an  assurance  which  brought  hope 
to  the  Marquis'  stricken  heart: 

" '  She  is  not  dead.  Calm  yourself,  sir.  And  you,  (to 
the  servants,)  don't  stand  there  paralyzed.  Place  your 
mistress  on  yonder  couch ;  give  her  plenty  of  fresh  air, 
and  open  her  gown  at  the  chest.' 

"  The  servants  did  as  they  were  bidden,  while  he  took 
out  his  case  and  applied  a  small  vial  to  her  nostrils, allow 
ing  her  to  breathe  its  contents;  and  lo !  she  opened  her 
eyes  and  whispered  faintly,  as  one  in  a  dream,  "'Ah!  how 
well  I  feel ! '  and,  to  her  mother  who,  revived,  was  now 

by  her  side,  'Be  calm,  dear  mother;  I  feel  so ' 

before  the  '  well '  had  left  her  lips,  she  had  fainted  again. 

"  'She  is  dead  !     She  is  dead  ! '  they  all  cried. 

"ButLouiset  commanded  silence,  and,  addressing  the 
Marquis,  said : 

" '  Sir,  your  daughter  needs  perfect  quietness.  Let  all 
retire  but  you  and  me  —  if  we  need  more  we  will  call, — 
and  I  will  answer  by  my  head  for  your  daughter's 
recovery.' 

"  When  they  had  all  left  the  room,  Louiset  said  to  the 
Marquis : 

" '  Your  daughter  is  very  feeble ;  but  she  is  not  hope 
lessly  ill.  Trust  her  to  my  care  for  a  month,  and  I 


184  Tales  of  Languedoc 

believe  I  can  cure  her.  I  do  not  profess  to  work  mira 
cles;  but  I  feel  sure  that  I  understand  her  case  and  can 
give  her  exactly  the  right  treatment.' 

" '  A  dying  man  catches  at  a  straw/  and  the  Marquis 
was  in  that  state  that  it  took  very  little  to  revive  his  hope. 

" '  Sir  physician,'  said  he,  '  I  intrust  my  daughter 
to  your  good  care.  Do  as  you  think  best;  and  I  repeat 
to  you  what  I  have  said  to  many  other  physicians :  "  If 
you  cure  her,  I  will  give  her  to  you  in  marriage." ' 

"  During  this  short  colloquy,  Louiset  had  applied  the 
scent-bottle  again.  When  he  had  consent  to  treat  her, 
he  unfastened  the  girl's  dressing-gown,  so  as  to  expose 
the  left  breast,  and  with  a  lancet,  concealed  in  his  hand, 
he  dexterously  removed  at  a  stroke  the  lump  which, 
according  to  the  fox,  was  the  cause  of  all  the  poor  girl's 
sufferings. 

"This  neat  little  operation  performed,  he  waited  a 
moment.  Presently  she  opened  her  eyes;  and  when  she 
had  fully  recovered  from  the  fainting  fit,  he  gave  very 
minute  directions  for  the  day's  treatment.  She  was  to 
have  good  care,  always  by  the  same  nurse.  No  one  else 
was  to  enter  the  room,  and  she  was  to  take  little  besides 
good  beef-juice. 

" '  To-morrow,'  said  the  would-be  physician,  'I  will 
return  and  bring  the  sovereign  remedy  for  her  case ;  you 
will  see  her  stronger  in  a  few  days.' 

"  He  took  his  leave  of  the  Marquis,  who  remained 
in  a  state  of  doubt  and  anxiety  until  the  morrow. 


A  Blind  Man's  Story  185 

"  The  following  day,  when  Louiset  came,  he  noticed 
that  the  patient  looked  better,  and  that  her  pulse  was 
stronger;  so  he  gave  new  directions  to  the  nurse,  and  left 
a  box  of  pepsin  powder,  which  he  called  by  such  a  com 
plicated  name  that  no  one  knew  what  it  meant,  not  even 
the  physician  himself;  but  this  powder,  he  impressed 
upon  them,  was  the  wonderful  remedy  which  would  cure 
infallibly,  if  given  according  to  directions.  So  they 
did  not  bother  about  the  name,  but  administered  it  to 
the  patient  as  prescribed. 

"  The  third  day  there  was  much  improvement  in  the 
patient's  condition.  She  relished  her  food,  had  gained 
a  little  strength,  and  even  wanted  to  sit  up.  The  Mar 
quis  and  his  wife  were  overjoyed ;  they  treated  Louiset 
like  a  prince,  and  reverenced  him  as  the  savior  of  their 
child.  They  insisted  upon  his  staying  at  the  castle,  in 
order  to  be  in  constant  attendance  on  their  sick  child, 
for  fear  of  a  relapse.  Louiset  refused  discreetly  at  first, 
but  finally  yielded  to  their  importunities,  and  became 
an  inmate  of  the  Marquis'  household.  It  was  not  long 
before  he  was  on  the  footing  of  a  son  at  the  castle. 

"  It  would  take  too  long  to  relate  all  the  details  of  the 
damsel's  convalescence,  and  to  follow  her  through  its 
many  stages,  as  strength  and  beauty  returned,  and  she 
became  more  and  more  an  interesting  subject  of  study 
for  the  young  physician.  Nor  can  I  linger  long  over  the 
sumptuous  wedding  at  the  castle  after  the  damsel's  full 
recovery.  It  suffices  to  say,  that  the  blind  beggar  boy 


i86  Tales  of  Languedoc 

became  the  husband  of  an  excellent  and  estimable  lady  ; 
that  he  was  henceforth  on  a  footing  of  equality  with  the 
noblest  and  oldest  families  of  the  district ;  that  his  fame 
as  a  physician  spread  far  and  wide,  and  that,  but  for  his 
common  sense  prompting  him  to  take  no  more  cases 
and  to  give  up  medicine  as  a  profession,  he  might  have 
had  to  answer  at  the  Judgment  Day  for  the  death  of 
many  a  person. 

"As  it  was,  he  lived  quietly  and  happily  on  his  wife's 
income,  spending  much  time  in  the  Marquis'  library, 
making  up  for  deficient  education,  driving  about  with 
his  wife,  or  riding  with  the  gentlemen  of  the  neigborhood. 

"  Some  years  later,  he  was,  at  the  close  of  a  hot  sum 
mer  day,  inhaling  the  evening  breeze  from  the  broad 
piazza  of  the  castle  in  company  with  his  wife  and  their 
young  child,  the  joy  of  his  home,  when  a  stranger, 
ragged  and  weather-beaten,  stopped  at  the  gate  of  the 
avenue  and  looked  intently  at  him  for  some  time,  and 
then  shouted  at  the  top  of  his  voice  :  '  Louiset !  Louiset! ' 

"  Louiset  went  to  the  gate,  and  was  greatly  surprised 
to  see  his  brother  Batiste;  but  as  he  did  not  care  to  pre 
sent  him  to  his  wife,  he  took  him  to  his  private  office 
and  had  a  long  conversation  with  him. 

"  To  this  day,  no  one  has  ever  known  what  passed 
between  the  two  brothers.  The  reproaches  Louiset  ad 
dressed  to  Batiste,  the  tears  of  repentance  Batiste  may 
have  shed,  the  forgiveness  he  may  have  begged,  are 
all  for  us  to  guess.  All  we  learned  from  the  interview 


A  Blind  Man's  Story  189 

is  the  history  of  Batiste  after  he  left  Louiset  under  the 
tree. 

"  He  took  the  road  to  Marseilles,  and  walked  all  night 
and  all  day,  in  order  to  get  far  away  from  his  brother, 
and  not  to  hear  of  his  cruel  death.  But  travel  as  far  as 
he  might,  he  seemed  always  to  hear  the  agonized  shrieks 
of  his  blind  brother  as  he  fell  a  prey  to  the  animals  of 
the  forest. 

"ReachingMarseilles,he  carried  out  his  long  cherished 
plan.  He  bought  a  mule  and  cart,  invested  in  charcoal, 
and  behold  him  shouting  through  the  streets :  '  Char 
coal  !  charcoal !  who  wants  to  buy  any  charcoal  ?  ' 

"He  made  a  good  living.  The  sun  shines  on  the  just 
and  the  unjust,  and  he  might  have  laid  up  a  compe 
tency,  had  not  his  evil  propensities  led  him  into  bad 
company.  His  friends,  the  vagabonds  of  Marseilles, 
robbed  him,  beat  him,  and  left  him  for  dead  in  the 
streets.  A  soldier's  patrol  took  him  to  the  hospital,  and 
when  he  came  out  he  had  to  beg  his  bread.  He  was 
not,  however,  dragging  a  blind  man,  and  the  alms  which 
fell  into  his  hat  were  few. 

"  Batiste  was  in  extreme  misery  when  he  reached  the 
castle  of  Fourmagne  and  found  himself  in  the  presence 
of  his  brother.  He  dared  not  question  Louiset ;  yet  he 
was  very  curious  to  know  how  his  brother  had  come  by 
so  much  wealth. 

"  Louiset  told  his  brother  very  briefly  all  that  had 
happened  to  him  since  they  parted.  He  pictured  his 


19°  Tales  of  Languedoc 

despair  on  finding  himself  alone  in  the  woods  in  the 
night;  his  fear  at  the  approach  of  the  wild  beasts;  what 
he  had  learned  from  their  conversation;  and  how,  after 
wards,  he  had  made  a  fortune  in  marrying  the  daughter 
of  the  Marquis  of  Fourmagne.  Overlooking  past  griev 
ances,  he  gave  Batiste  a  considerable  sum  of  money  and 
dismissed  him. 

"Madame  Louiset,  with  feminine  curiosity,  wanted  to 
know  who  that  beggar  was;  but  Louiset  put  her  off 
with :  '  Only  one  of  the  many  workmen  in  need,'  and 
the  stranger  was  never  seen  or  mentioned  again. 

"  Batiste  was  hardly  out  of  his  brother's  presence 
when  he  said  to  himself: 

"  'Why  should  I  not  go  to  the  tree?  The  same  animals 
will  be  sure  to  come,  and  they  may  tell  other  secrets 
which  will  be  useful  to  me.' 

"  No  sooner  said  than  done.  Batiste  made  his  way  to 
the  tree ;  and  on  the  evening  of  the  first  of  May,  we 
find  him  perched  up  on  the  branches,  waiting  for  the 
animals  to  come. 

"  This  time  they  did  not  exchange  compliments  when 
they  met.  On  the  contrary,  there  were  many  harsh 
words  of  reproach  for  the  traitors  who  had  let  out  their 
secrets.  Such  villainy  had  never  been  known  before 
among  the  animal  tribes.  Some  of  their  number  must 
have  betrayed  the  confidences  of  the  last  meeting,  and, 
from  words,  they  came  to  blows  about  it.  The  noise  was 
frightful.  The  uproar  shook  the  branches.  Terrified, 


A  Blind  Man's  Story  191 

Batiste  tried  to  climb  higher,  when  the  rustle  of  leaves 
and  swaying  of  a  branch,  betrayed  him  : 

"  Some  one  in  the  tree  !  "  shouted  a  signal.  "  Some 
one  in  the  tree !  Some  one  in  the  tree !  "  was  caught  up 
by  many  voices. 

At  this  cry  the  tumult  ceased,  and  they  all  listened 
for  another  sound.  Batiste  was  by  this  time  chattering 
with  fright,  so  that  the  branch  creaked  under  him. 

"  Our  betrayer  is  in  the  tree !  Our  betrayer  is  in  the 
tree !  "  spread  the  angry  cry. 

Immediately  an  immense  bear  came  out  of  the  herd 
and  climbed  the  tree  and  made  for  Batiste  with  all  dis 
patch, —  he  was  shaking  like  an  aspen-leaf  behind  a  big 
branch, —  gave  him  a  terrific  blow  with  one  paw,  and 
sent  him  crashing  down  through  the  branches  into  the 
midst  of  the  herd  of  furious  animals,  who  made  short 
work  of  him.  And  so,  pecaire!  he  was  torn  to  pieces 
and  devoured  by  the  very  beasts  to  which  he  had  deliv 
ered  his  brother. 

And  the  cock  crew,  and  the  story  ended. 


19 2  Tales  of  Languedoc 


ALMOST  always  after  a  thrilling  narrative,  a  dis 
mal  tale,  or  a  fascinating  story,  there  is  a  moment 
of  silence.  Whether  the  mind  needs  rest  after  the  great 
strain,  or  whether  it  inclines  to  go  over  what  it  has 
heard,  that  I  cannot  say, —  I  leave  the  explanation  to 
more  learned  men, — but  the  fact  remains,  that  after 
hearing  of  the  Blind  Boy's  thrilling  adventures,  Cypeyre 
and  I  walked  a  long  way  in  silence,  and  hardly  ex 
changed  a  word  until  we  reached  a  spring  under  a 
willow-tree. 

Some  men  were  already  sitting  there  in  the  shade, 
talking.  One  was  from  Manoblet,  another  from  Cazag- 
nole,  a  third  from  Gaian,  and  others  from  Brogassarge. 
They  welcomed  us,  and  we  soon  fell  into  conversation. 
I  asked  tne  man  from  Ga'ian,  why  the  saying  goes  that 
misery  is  always  at  Gaian  ? 

He  laughed,  and  said  :  "  You  must  be  from  far,  or  you 
would  not  ask  such  a  question ;  we  have  a  family  by  the 
name  of  '  Misery,'  very  poor  and  very  numerous;  so  it  is 
not  surprising  that  there  is  always  plenty  of  misery  at 
Gaian." 

Another  spoke  up,  and  said:  "I  wonder  why  all  vil 
lages  have  their  nicknames,  and  how  they  originated." 

The  man  from  Manoblet,  replied  :  "  Those  appellations 
are,  many  of  them,  too  old  to  know  their  origin ;  but  I 
believe  they  came  from  some  village  custom,  or  some 


The  Tour  of  France  193 

peculiarity  of  the  people.  For  instance,  they  call  the 
Lecquars, '  Brayers  of  Lecques;'  because,  at  all  times  of 
day,  you  may  hear  them  shouting  to  the  ferryman: 
'Hey!  halloa!  come  to  ferry  me  across!' 

"  They  call  the  villagers  of  Cannes, '  Shoers  of  cats,' 
(ferra  cats) ;  and  the  story  goes  that,  once  upon  a  time, 
the  youngsters  of  Cannes  caught  all  the  cats,  and  stuck 
nutshells  on  their  feet  with  pitch,  and  turned  them 
loose  in  the  streets.  You  can  imagine  the  fun  for  the 
cats  and  their  owners. 

"  People  of  Lunel  have  long  been  known  as  '  Pesca 
Luna/  (fishers  of  the  moon).  Tradition  says  that  some 
idiotic  fellows  were  trying  to  fish  the  moon  with  a  bucket 
as  it  was  reflected  in  the  canal.  As  soon  as  the  bucket 
touched  the  water,  the  moon  began  to  dance,  and  the 
lookers-on  said  to  the  fisher :  '  Go  slow,  or  it  will  get 
away ! '  And  when  the  water  was  very  still  again,  and 
the  moon  in  the  bucket,  they  lifted  it  very  slowly,  and 
tickled  as  schoolboys,  started  for  the  town  with  the  moon 
in  the  bucket.  Unfortunately,  they  stopped  to  get 
a  drink  at  the  tavern  of  Valatoure.  A  donkey  passed 
along,  saw  the  bucket  on  the  sidewalk,  gulped  down  the 
water,  and,  no  doubt,  with  it  the  moon. 

"  They  say  '  Passeroun  de  Soumeire,'  (sparrows  of 
Sommieres),  and  this  is  why :  Some  men  had  loaded  a  cart 
with  long  beams,  placed  crosswise.  When  they  tried  to 
go  through  the  narrow  streets  they  got  stuck,  and  did 
not  know  what  to  do.  The  men  stood  scratching  their 


194  Tales  of  Languedoc 

heads,  when  a  sparrow  flew  past,  holding  in  his  bill 
a  straw  two  feet  long.  The  little  sparrow  was  not 
as  stupid  as  the  three  men.  It  held  the  straw  by  one 
end,  and  reaching  its  hole, —  bisst !  in  it  went. 

" '  Te ! '  said  the  brightest  of  the  three ;  '  if  it  had 
held  the  straw  by  the  middle,  it  would  have  got  stuck 
as  we  did.' 

"  And  quickly  they  laid  the  beams  lengthwise  on  the 
cart,  and  passed  through  the  street  with  no  trouble." 

Each  one  gave  the  name  of  the  villages  he  knew,  but 
there  were  so  many  I  have  forgotten  most  of  them. 

Finally,  we  all  got  up  and  started  on  our  different 
ways  at  the  same  time.  Cypeyre  and  I  were  bound  for 
the  same  village,  so  we  journeyed  on  together,  and 
arrived  at  sunset.  We  secured  the  best  two  rooms  of 
the  inn,  where  Cypeyre  was  known,  and  while  supper 
was  being  prepared,  we  strolled  through  the  streets,  and 
took  a  look  at  the  place. 

"Women  were  out  with  brooms  sweeping  the  streets 
with  all  their  might.  Men,  with  long  ladders,  were 
draping  the  sides  of  the  houses,  from  eaves  to  pavement, 
with  sheets,  curtains,  and  tapestry.  Girls  were  coming 
and  going,  running  this  way  and  that,  bringing  ever 
green  branches,  sprays  of  bloom,  and  masses  of  flowers, 
seeming  to  have  all  the  wealth  of  Nature  in  May-time 
at  their  disposal;  while  maidens  and  youths  were  arrang 
ing  them  in  festoons  and  garlands  fastened  upon  the 
draperies  in  graceful  and  artistic  designs.  The  village 


The  Tour  of  France  197 

was  evidently  putting  on  holiday  airs,  and  we  were  about 
to  inquire  what  it  all  meant,  when  a  cry  arose : 

"  Help  !  Help  !  "  And  a  few  steps  in  front  of  us  a 
woman  rushed  into  the  street  with  hair  disheveled  and 
face  terrified. 

The  women,  with  their  brooms,  came  to  her  rescue, 
with  :  "  What  is  the  matter?  What  has  hurt  you  ?  " 

But  before  she  had  time  to  speak,  a  man,  with  a  broken 
stave  in  his  hand,  rushed  after  her,  and  proclaimed  to 
them  all,  as  if  a  great  joke: 

"  My  wife 's  a  silly  goose ;  she  cries  because  I  happen 
to  break  a  stave !  "  and  to  the  wife,  consolingly,  "  Come 
now,  don't  make  such  a  fuss  over  a  broken  stave  ;  there 
are  plenty  more  left."  (He  was  a  cooper.) 

"  That  villain  Petaras,  he  broke  the  stave  on  my 
back!  he  will  surely  kill  me  some  day,  the  wretch!" 
cried  she,  while  Petaras,  all  smiles,  went  into  the  house 
with  the  air  of  a  hero. 

The  women  all  took  her  part,  and  crowded  around 
her  to  hear  the  whole  story.  After  this  tragic  scene 
we  returned  to  the  inn,  thinking  only  of  the  cool  brutality 
of  Petaras. 


ClK  Carriage  of 
monsieur  flrcanoel; 
or,  tin  Storp  or  ID* 

GIoucs  Of  Cousc-Skin. 


The  Marriage  of  Monsieur  Arcan- 

vel;    or,  the  Story  of  the 

Gloves  of  Louse-Skin. 

AFTER  supper,  while  talking  of  many  things,  I 
remarked  to  the  innkeeper  that  I  purposed  to  set 
out  early  the  next  morning. 

"  Why,  you  do  not  know,  then,  what  is  going  to  hap 
pen  to-morrow !  "  exclaimed  he.  "  We  are  forbidden  to 
let  any  stranger  leave  town.  The  whole  village  will  be 
in  holiday  attire.  The  expenses  of  the  fete  have  already 
been  paid.  Villagers,  strangers,  one  and  all,  are  bidden 
to  the  wedding ;  for  our  squire  marries  his  son  to-morrow." 

I  sprang  to  my  feet  with  surprise. 

"  But,"  he  continued,  "  you  do  not  seem  to  know  any 
thing  about  our  squire.  Well,  he  is  the  richest  man  in 
the  country,  and  the  kindest  of  the  rich.  He  is  not 
proud ;  he  greets  every  one  he  meets,  and  never  fails  to 
inquire  '  How  d'  ye  do,  and  how  's  your  family.'  He 
daily  visits  the  poor  and  sick,  provides  them  with  all 
they  need,  food,  fuel,  or  medicine,  and  has  always  a  kind 
word  or  good  advice  for  the  least  of  us.  If  any  man 
needs  a  job,  he  has  only  to  apply  to  the  squire ;  he  has 


2O2  Tales  of  Languedoc 

work  for  every  one  on  his  estate,  winter  and  summer ; 
so  we  look  up  to  him  as  our  father.  Never  and  nowhere 
is  a  better  man  to  be  found  —  nay,  his  equal  is  yet  to  be 
born !  We  would  any  of  us  go  through  fire  and  water 
for  him ;  but  all  we  can  do  is  to  repay  him  with  kind 
ness,  and  we  all  try  to,  except  that  rascal  Petaras,  who 
does  not  care  a  fig  for  the  squire,  and  never  listens  to  him. 
He  is  the  only  one  who  '11  not  be  present  at  the  wedding." 

I  made  bold  to  inquire  whether  the  young  man's 
bride  was  from  a  neighboring  town. 

"  Oh ! "  said  he,  "  it  is  quite  a  story.  If  you  like,  I  '11 
tell  it  to  you.  The  evening  is  long;  we  shall  have  plenty 
of  time  for  sleep  after  I  am  through ;  and  I  know  you  will 
not  be  sorry  to  hear  the  romance,  for  it  will  help  you 
to  appreciate  what  you  are  to  see  to-morrow." 

"  I  have  already  told  you  that  Mr.  Arcanvel  is  very 
rich.  He  owns  here  the  finest  castle  and  estate  for  miles 
around.  He  has  also  many  beautiful  farms  in  the 
mountains,  on  which  graze  thousands  of  cattle.  No  one 
knows  exactly  how  may  people  he  emploj^s,  either  on 
his  home  place,  or  in  yonder  Cevennes.  Most  of  his 
income  though  is  derived  from  his  ships  on  the  seas  — 
and  every  year  he  takes  a  trip  to  Paris  to  receive  his 
dividends. 

"  Two  or  three  years  ago,  when  about  to  set  out  for 
Paris,  he  was  taken  ill  with  rheumatism,  which  laid  him 
up  and  prevented  him  from  undertaking  the  journey. 
His  son,  a  young  man  of  about  twenty,  well  educated, 


Monsieur  Arcanvel  203 

handsome,  and  as  kind-hearted  as  his  father,  had  to  go 
in  his  place. 

"  One  fine  April  morning,  mounted  on  a  superb 
horse,  he  set  out  on  his  trip.  The  first,  second,  and 
maybe  the  third  day,  all  went  well.  In  fine  spirits  and 
full  of  anticipation,  our  traveler  journeyed  northward, 
delighted  with  the  prospect  of  seeing  the  capital ;  when 
about  three  o'clock  one  afternoon, — as  often  happens  in 
spring, — the  sky  became  very  cloudy. 

"At  first  he  paid  little  attention  to  it;  but  he  soon 
perceived  that  the  sky  was  growing  black  with  threaten 
ing  clouds  hanging  on  the  hillsides,  and  a  roaring  was 
heard,  which  grew  louder  and  louder.  Soon  a  great 
wind  arose,  and  blew  so  hard  as  to  almost  lift  him  off 
his  horse.  Night  was  approaching,  the  darkness  in 
creased,  and  the  dust  blinded  him  so  that  with  difficulty 
he  could  make  out  his  way. 

"Suddenly  there  was  a  flash  of  lightning,  then  a 
second  one,  then  a  rapid  succession  of  flashes,  followed 
by  a  pelting  rain,  and  by  the  loud  and  long  peals  of 
thunder  in  the  neighboring  hills. 

"  It  was  the  beginning  of  a  fearful  storm,  which  kept 
increasing  in  fury,  leveling  trees,  hurling  rocks  from  the 
mountain  side,  and  threatening  to  destroy  both  horse 
and  rider. 

"  Poor  boy !  only  to  think  of  that  fearful  ride  makes 
me  shudder.  I  seem  to  see  him  yet —  alone  in  the  dead 
of  night  —  with  lightning  rending  the  sky,  and  making 


204  Tales  of  Languedoc 

the  black  night  blacker  yet,  with  the  storm  raging  about 
him,  and  the  rain  beating  down  in  torrents. 

"  The  poor  boy  would  surely  have  been  lost,  had  not 
a  kind  Providence  taken  pity  on  him  and  made  him 
discover,  suddenly,  by  a  flash  of  lightning,  a  large 
building  not  far  from  the  road.  It  was  the  castle  of 
Serignac,  the  residence  of  Baron  de  Donan,  a  nobleman 
with  one  child  —  a  daughter  of  eighteen.  Arcanvel 
rang  the  bell  of  the  lodge,  and  a  servant,  lantern  in 
hand,  came  to  see  what  was  wanted.  When  the  servant 
saw  that  horseman,  drenched  to  the  skin,  he  quickly 
opened  the  gate,  gave  him  shelter,  and  hastened  to 
inform  his  master. 

"'My  Lord/  said  he,  'a  young  man,  half-drowned, 
comes  to  ask  for  a  night's  shelter.  What  shall  I  do  ? ' 

" '  Welcome  him,  of  course,  whoever  he  may  be,'  said 
the  Baron;  'order  the  groom  to  take  the  horse  to  the 
stable,  and  see  that  he  is  well  rubbed  down,  dried,  and 
fed;  and  give  the  young  man  a  warm  room  and  dry 
clothing.' 

"Young  Arcanvel  was  delighted  with  all  that  was 
done  for  his  comfort,  and  with  the  polite  and  respectful 
demeanor  of  the  servants  towards  him,  as  they  lighted 
a  cheerful  fire  in  his  room,  brought  him  dry  clothing, 
and  a  glass  of  Chartreuse  to  revive  him. 

"'They  must  know  who  I  am,'  said  he  to  himself, '  to 
treat  me  like  this.' 

"  When  somewhat  rested,  and  quite  dry  and  warm, 


Monsieur  Arcanvel  207 

he  was  shown  into  the  drawing-room,  where  the  Baron 
awaited  him,  all  impatience  to  know  who  the  storm- 
stayed  stranger  might  be. 

"  The  Baron  took  the  young  man  by  the  hand,  and 
inquired  whom  he  had  the  honor  of  addressing. 

" '  Mr.  Arcanvel,  of  the  castle  of  Vic/  said  that  gen 
tleman,  with  an  apology  for  giving  his  host  so  much 
trouble. 

" '  Oh ! '  replied  the  Baron, '  you  do  not  inconvenience 
me  in  the  least,  you  are  very  welcome,  Sir.'  Then  turn 
ing  to  Lisette,  the  servant :  '  Tell  my  daughter  to  come 
and  have  supper  served  at  once,  for  Mr.  Arcanvel  needs 
refreshments,  after  his  hard  experience.' 

"  A  moment  later  the  young  lady  appeared,  timid,  but 
charming.  They  were  introduced  to  each  other,  and, 
after  exchanging  a  few  polite  words,  they  repaired  to  the 
dining-room. 

"  During  the  supper  they  talked  a  little  of  everything, 
as  usual, — agriculture,  industry,  commerce,  science,  art, 
navigation,  and  lightly  touched  on  politics.  The  young 
Arcanvel  showed  himself  well  informed  on  all  subjects; 
he  spoke,  indeed,  as  if  he  had  the  mature  experience  of 
an  older  man.  The  Baron  was  pleased  and  surprised 
to  find  so  much  wisdom  and  knowledge  in  the  stranger. 

"  Arcanvel  told  the  object  of  his  journey  to  Paris, 
mentioned  his  father's  illness  and  his  own  suffering  dur 
ing  the  storm,  '  to  which  I  now  owe,'  said  he  gracefully, 
'  the  pleasure  of  sitting  at  your  lordship's  table.'  All 


208  Tales  of  Languedoc 

this  was  so  well  said,  in  a  pleasant  voice  and  modest, 
refined  manner,  that  the  Baron  could  not  help  remarking 
to  himself:  '  That  young  man  is  smart,  and  he  has  had 
the  right  training.' 

"  Young  Arcanvel  was  attentive  and  polite  to  Miss  de 
Donan,  as  becomes  a  well-bred  youth,  and  he  made  so 
good  an  impression  on  the  father  that  it  was  very  late 
when  they  bade  each  other  a  good-night. 

"The  next  morning,  when  the  servant  called  Mr. 
Arcanvel  to  breakfast,  he  found  him  in  a  burning  fever. 
He  had  evidently  taken  cold.  The  Baron  at  once  sent 
for  his  family  physician,  who  pronounced  it  a  case  of 
pneumonia.  Mr.  Arcanvel's  sickness  was  an  event  to  be 
ever  remembered  at  the  castle.  The  physician  did  not 
leave  his  patient  for  a  minute.  He  gave  all  the 
remedies  known  to  science;  he  administered  all  the 
herbs  of  St.  John,  and  applied  all  sorts  of  lotions;  but, 
in  spite  of  all  that,  for  three  or  four  days  the  young 
man's  life  hung  by  a  thread.  The  Baron  was  in  despair, 
—  he  gave  up  all  hope.  On  the  ninth  day,  however, 
there  was  a  change,  and  on  the  tenth  a  slight  improve 
ment,  and  on  the  day  following  he  was  declared  out  of 
danger  by  the  physician,  and  orders  were  given  for  the 
best  care  and  perfect  quiet,  to  prevent  a  relapse.  The 
Baron  had  the  orders  carried  out  strictly,  and  insisted 
on  overdoing,  rather  than  to  allow  any  neglect  of  the 
patient  during  convalescence. 

"  The  young  man's  vitality  carried  him  through,  and 


Monsieur  Arcanvel  209 

he  improved  rapidly.  When  he  was  able  to  take  walks 
in  the  garden,  the  Baron  permitted  his  daughter  to  cheer 
the  invalid  with  her  company,  and  the  two  were  together 
a  great  deal,  accompanied  always  by  the  maid,  Lisette. 

"  Naturally,  a  friendship  sprang  up  from  this  contact 
of  two  noble  minds  and  pure  hearts.  The  servants  gos 
siped  about  them,  of  course;  but  Lisette,  who  was  always 
present,  declared  there  was  no  lovemaking. 

"  In  spite  of  this,  time  and  constant  companionship 
were  having  their  effect.  The  morning  of  the  departure 
came,  and  the  saddle-horse  was  brought  to  the  door. 
The  Baron  wished  a  prosperous  and  happy  journey,  and 
the  young  man  asked  leave  to  kiss  the  daughter's  hand 
as  a  token  of  gratitude.  The  Baron  consented,  if  Miss 
de  Donan  was  willing;  and  there  was  a  graceful  bow, 
a  slight  mutual  pressure  of  fingers,  as  they  were  brought  to 
the  lips,  and  no  one  has  ever  known  what  passed  through 
those  fingers  like  an  electric  current,  or  what  those  two 
were  thinking  about  as  the  horse's  speed  separated  them ; 
but,  as  for  the  Baron,  he  seemed  to  experience  a  great 
satisfaction  on  seeing  his  protege  start  off  rosy  and  well. 
His  face  seemed  to  say :  '  You  see,  it  is  I  who  cured 
him.'  And  taking  his  daughter  by  the  hand,  they  went 
into  the  park,  climbed  a  stone  bench,  and  waved  their 
adieus  as  long  as  their  cavalier  was  in  sight,  and  he 
waved  his  hat  until  lost  to  view. 

"  After  the  departure  of  Arcanvel,  all  at  the  castle 
returned  to  their  accustomed  ways,  excepting  Miss  de 


2io  Tales  of  Languedoc 

Donan,  who  kept  rising  early,  assisting  Lisette  in  setting 
the  table  and  in  putting  the  parlor  in  order,  as  she  did 
when  she  expected  Arcanvel  to  breakfast. 

"  Her  father  noticed  this,  and  thought  to  himself: 
'  My  daughter  is  not  the  same  girl  since  that  boy  set 
his  foot  in  my  house.  Before  his  coming  she  was 
careless  and  childish;  she  had  to  be  called  an  hour 
before  breakfast,  and  was  always  late.  Now  she  rises 
early,  dresses  quickly,  sets  her  hand  to  everything,  and 
is  as  alert  as  a  gazelle.  That 's  what  it  is  to  keep  com 
pany  with  people  of  good  manners  and  education.  In 
the  company  of  that  young  man  she  has  improved  a  hun 
dred  per  cent. ;  she  has  become  elegant,  like  her  dear 
mother  —  she  has  her  voice  and  feature,  but  not  her 
disposition. 

"'My  wife  was  a  good  woman,  but  obstinate,  and 
when  she  was  set  on  a  thing,  she  was  set,  and  there  was 
no  budging  her. 

" '  My  daughter  has  my  disposition ;  she  is  all  meek 
ness  and  submission.' 

" Poor  Baron!  Little  did  he  suspect  that  his  agreeable 
guest  had  sown  in  the  heart  of  his  daughter  a  seed 
which  would  become  a  great  tree,  and  which  all  his 
paternal  influence  could  not  succeed  in  uprooting. 

"  The  Baron  was  a  widower,  I  have  already  said.  The 
Baroness  had  died  when  their  child  was  young,  so 
a  nurse  had  to  be  found.  It  happened  that  Lisette, 
a  poor  woman  of  good  family,  had  just  lost  her  husband 


Monsieur  Arcanvel  211 

and  an  only  child,  and  the  Baron  sent  for  her  and  gave 
her  entire  charge  of  the  little  girl;  she  is  with  them 
yet,  as  Miss  de  Donan's  maid. 

"  One  day,  when  the  child  was  about  three  years  old, 
the  nurse  was  combing  her  hair,  and  found  two  lice. 
She  placed  them  on  a  white  cloth,  and  gave  the  child 
a  lesson  in  cleanliness;  but  she  was  delighted,  took  them 
to  her  father,  and  asked  if  she  might  tame  them. 

" '  What  an  idea ! '  said  the  father ;  but,  as  he  never 
refused  her  anything,  he  let  her  keep  them.  They  were 
placed  in  a  box  and  fed  on  raw  meat.  They  grew  to  an 
enormous  size,  and  had  a  beautiful  skin  of  soft,  reddish- 
gray,  like  a  mole's,  sleek  and  shiny  as  satin.  She  kept 
them  for  many  years.  And  one  summer,  when  she 
came  home  from  boarding-school,  she  asked  her  father 
to  have  gloves  made  out  of  their  skins. 

" '  That  is  one  of  your  queer  notions,'  said  her  father; 
but,  as  usual,  yielded  to  her  wish.  The  poor  lice  were 
brought  out  of  their  pen  and  killed,  their  pelts  tanned 
and  made  into  gloves.  She  wore  those  gloves  on  all 
great  occasions ;  they  were  much  admired,  and  no  one, 
except  the  Baron  and  Lisette,  could  tell  of  what  they 
were  made. 

"  About  three  or  four  weeks  after  Mr.  Arcanvel  left  the 
castle,  he  wrote  a  letter  to  the  Baron,  telling  him  of  his 
successful  trip  to  Paris,  of  his  near  departure  for  home, 
and  thanked  him  once  more  for  his  great  kindness,  and 
expressed  his  everlasting  gratitude. 


212  Tales  of  Languedoc 

"The  Baron  was  more  than  pi  eased, —  men  are  always 
glad  to  be  thanked  for  favors  they  have  done, —  and  he 
sent  word  at  once  for  young  Arcanvel  to  stop  on  his  way 
home,  which  invitation  the  young  man  expected,  and 
eagerly  accepted. 

"  Miss  de  Donan  watched  for  him  early  on  the  morning 
he  was  to  arrive,  and  when,  from  her  window,  she  saw 
him  turn  the  bend  of  the  road  on  the  top  of  the  hill, 
she  hastened  to  tell  her  father,  who  went  to  the  porter's 
lodge  to  meet  him,  and  received  him  as  a  father  would 
receive  his  own  son.  When  Arcanvel  met  Miss  de 
Donan,  it  was  not  without  emotion ;  but,  like  a  polite 
and  refined  gentleman,  his  self-control  kept  back  what 
his  heart  would  have  prompted  him  to  say. 

"  Arcanvel  staid  but  three  days  at  the  castle,  for  his 
father  was  anxiously  waiting  to  see  him,  and  to  hear 
all  about  his  son's  trip  and  the  settlement  of  his  affairs. 
Three  days  were  enough,  however,  for  the  young  people 
to  have  an  understanding  with  each  other. 

"In  her  youth,  the  late  Baroness  had  a  dear  friend, 
who  married  the  Marquis  de  Pieredon  five  years  before  she 
married  the  Baron.  The  Marchioness  had  a  son  and  the 
Baroness  a  daughter,  and  they  used  to  exchange  com 
pliments  about  their  babies.  One  day,  for  fun,  the 
Marchioness  suggested  that  the  two  should  be  betrothed. 
"What  was  said  in  joke  was  taken  seriously  by  the  Baron 
and  his  wife,  and  they  all  agreed  to  remember  their 
promise  at  the  proper  time. 


Monsieur  Arcanvel  213 

"  What  was  more  natural  than  to  entertain  thoughts 
of  such  a  prospect!  They  were  dear  friends,  both  of 
noble  family,  their  fortune  about  equal,  their  estates 
adjoining.  It  was  a  dream  of  happiness  long  cherished, 
which  the  death  of  the  Baroness  did  not  dispel. 

"  When  the  Marquis  came  to  remind  the  Baron  of  his 
old  promise,  the  girl  being  of  marriageable  age,  and  the 
Baron  laid  the  matter  before  his  daughter  as  his  and 
her  mother's  plan  for  her,  Miss  de  Donan  fairly  sprang 
to  her  feet.  The  Marquis  was  old;  he  was  too  short; 
he  was  no  talker ;  he  was  as  dark  as  a  mulatto  and  awk 
ward  as  a  duck ;  was  mannerless,  and  what  not.  '  I  don't 
want  him!  I  don't  want  him;  I  would  rather  die  in 
the  skin  of  an  old  maid  than  to  marry  him ! ' 

"The  poor  Baron  was  dumfounded.  He  had  counted 
on  his  daughter's  sweetness  of  temper,  on  her  obedience ; 
he  had  always  thought  her  disposition  yielding,  like 
his,  rather  than  stubborn,  like  his  wife's;  he  could 
hardly  believe  his  eyes  —  that  bound  of  his  daughter's 
surpassed  any  of  his  wife's  outbreaks.  He  was  discon 
certed,  but  still  trusted  that  time  and  reason  would 
change  her  mind.  Alas !  the  poor  Baron  would  find  out 
when  her  mind  was  set,  it  was  set,  and  that  she  was  her 
mother  over  again ! 

"  One  day  he  ventured  to  reason  with  her :  '  What  are 
you  thinking  of  to  refuse  a  suitor  like  the  Marquis?  His 
parents  are  our  neighbors  and  our  friends, —  they  have 
a  great  name,  are  richer  than  we.  What  more  do  you 


214  Tales  of  Languedoc 

ask?  If  he  is  a  few  years  older  than  you,  what  does 
it  matter?  A  husband  had  better  be  older  than  younger 
than  the  wife.  Now,  if  you  have  any  good  reason  for 
refusing  him,  let  me  know  it.' 

"  '  Well,  father/  said  she, '  I  do  not  want  to  displease 
you ;  I  am  very  sorry  to  go  contrary  to  your  wishes ;  but 
I  love  Mr.  Arcanvel,  and  I  shall  not  marry  if  I  cannot 
marry  him.' 

"  You  can  have  no  idea  of  the  Baron's  wrath  on  hear 
ing  this,  nor  of  his  vociferations  against  Arcanvel.  He 
was  a  blackguard,  a  traitor,  a  seducer!  That,  under 
a  feigned  politeness,  a  seeming  gratitude,  which  he  was 
pleased  to  call  eternal,  he  should  conceal  such  base  vil 
lainy,  one  could  not  conceive !  Such  a  misalliance 
would  be  the  everlasting  disgrace  of  the  family!  Arcan 
vel!  Arcanvel!  What  is  he?  A  nice  man,  indeed! 
If,  perchance,  he  was  a  scion  of  the  humblest  nobleman 
—  well,  perhaps,  it  might  do  —  but,  Arcanvel!  —  a  ple- 
bian !  No ;  never  would  he  consent  to  such  a  marriage ! 

"  From  that  time  on,  there  was  a  great  coolness 
between  father  and  daughter.  At  table  during  meal 
time  they  exchanged  not  a  word.  The  Baron  still 
hoped,  and  the  daughter  became  firmer  in  her  determi 
nation  every  day.  With  the  cunning  of  a  girl  in  love, 
she  found  means  of  corresponding  with  her  lover.  Her 
trusty  Lisette  proved  her  ally  and  accomplice.  Honest 
soul  as  she  was,  woman-like,  she  enjoyed  mixing  in 
another's  love  affair;  so  every  morning  she  met  the 


Monsieur  Arcanvel  215 

postman  at  the  gate  of  the  park,  gave  him  her  mistress' 
letter  to  mail,  and  brought  back  Arcanvel's.  Father 
and  daughter  lived  thus  for  some  time,  each  one  waiting 
for  the  other  to  broach  again  the  burning  subject  which 
divided  them. 

"  One  day,  the  Marquis  of  Pieredon  came  to  renew 
his  demand  for  his  son,  intimating  this  time  that,  if  a 
prompt  and  favorable  response  was  not  given,  his  son 
would  marry  another. 

"  The  Baron  found  himself  compelled  to  break  the 
silence  first.  He  took  her  aside,  and,  with  all  the  self- 
restraint  that  a  man  provoked  by  an  obstinate  daughter 
can  command,  he  pressed  the  suit  again.  She  would  be 
rich  and  influential,  and  her  sons  would  be  powerful  in 
the  government,  and  all  that.  He  spake  long  and  ear 
nestly,  using  all  the  tact  of  a  diplomat  to  obtain  her 
consent. 

"  The  daughter  listened  with  perfect  composure,  and 
when  her  father  had  finished,  she  said,  in  her  natural, 
calm  tone :  *  Father,  for  the  second  time  I  must  tell  you 
that  the  Marquis  does  not  please  me.  I  am  sorry  indeed 
to  have  to  go  contrary  to  your  wishes;  but  I  would 
rather  stay  single  all  my  life  than  consent  to  have  the 
Marquis  for  a  husband.' 

"'Stay  single  all  your  life!'  exploded  the  Baron, 
with  anger  rising  in  his  throat,  and  a  voice  loud  enough 
to  raise  the  roof.  'Stay  single  all  your  life!  But  I 
insist  on  your  marrying.  You  think  you  can  drive  me 


216  Tales  of  Languedoc 

to  let  you  marry  that  ungrateful  knave  Arcanvel.  But 
you  shall  not  have  him.'  And,  with  louder  tone  and 
threatening  gesture,  he  added :  '  You  shall  rnarry  the 
first  man  who  guesses  of  what  skin  your  gloves  are 
made,  even  if  that  man  be  a  lousy  tramp ! ' 

"The  Baron  thought  to  frighten  his  daughter  into 
submission ;  but  when  the  sonorous  echoes  of  his  voice 
had  died  away,  she  calmly  looked  up  in  his  face,  and 
said  :  '  I  accept,  on  one  condition  —  the  Marquis  shall 
not  be  a  competitor.' 

"  To  this  the  Baron  agreed,  and  soon  through  all  the 
country  it  was  known  that  on  the  first  of  May — the 
birthday  of  Miss  de  Donan, —  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  morn 
ing,  all  the  suitors  for  her  hand  should  rendezvous  at 
the  castle  for  the  great  guessing  contest. 

"  All  sorts  of  men  —  men  from  every  station  in  life  — 
young  men,  old  men,  rich  men,  poor  men,  noble,  peasant, 
and  beggar  were  invited  to  try  their  luck. 

"The  Baron  hoped  by  the  first  of  May  to  see  his 
daughter  change  her  mind  and  marry  the  Marquis, 
rather  than  take  her  chances  of  wedding  the  first-comer. 
In  this  he  was  also  deceived.  Miss  de  Donan  awaited 
the  day  with  a  lover's  impatience,  confident  that  Mr. 
Arcanvel  would  come  and  win  her. 

"  Early  in  the  morning,  on  May  first,  they  began  to 
arrive,  by  twos  and  by  fours  —  men  from  the  country 
around.  The  well-to-do  rode  in  buggies  and  dog-carts ; 
the  rich  were  driven  in  fine  equipages  by  liveried  ser- 


Monsieur    Arcanvel  217 

vants ;  the  farmers  rode  their  work-horses ;  some  peasants 
even  came  on  donkeys.  But  by  far  the  greater  number 
came  on  foot. 

"  By  ten  o'clock,  this  motley  crowd  of  bachelors, 
widowers,  or  whatever  —  some  with  a  foot  scarcely  out 
of  the  cradle,  and  others  already  with  one  foot  in  the 
grave  —  had  filled  the  court  to  overflowing. 

"  The  most  conspicuous  figure  of  them  all  was  a  mendi 
cant,  with  a  dirty  wide-brimmed  hat  on  his  head,  long, 
greasy  locks  which  fell  to  his  shoulders  and  half-hid  his 
face.  He  wore  a  gray  linen  shirt,  which  reached  to  his 
ears,  and  a  cheap  serge  coat.  He  carried  a  pack  on  his 
back,  and  a  gourd-shell  hung  at  his  left  side;  in  his 
right  hand  was  an  immense  cudgel,  and  on  his  feet  were 
hobnailed  wooden  shoes,  so  heavy  and  clumsy  that, 
when  he  walked  on  the  paved  court,  one  would  have 
said  it  was  the  tread  of  a  gendarme's  horse. 

"The  whole  crowd  stared  at  him,  but  all  avoided 
contact  for  fear  of  the  vermin  which  might  find  refuge 
under  his  hat. 

"  From  early  dawn,  Lisette  had  been  on  the  watch 
for  Mr.  Arcanvel.  She  was  greatly  disappointed  not  to 
see  him  in  the  courtyard. 

"  Precisely  as  the  last  stroke  of  ten  from  the  ancestral 
clock  in  the  hall  died  away,  the  Baron  stepped  to  the 
landing  of  the  courtyard  stairs  and  said  curtly :  '  Gentle 
men,  the  time  for  the  contest  has  arrived.  Please  enter.' 

"  The  servants  in  charge  of  the  suitors  took  them 


2  1 8  Tales  of  Languedoc 

one  by  one  to  Miss  de  Donan's  boudoir,  where  she 
awaited  them  with  the  precious  gloves  on.  As  each  one 
came  in,  he  bowed  to  the  young  lady,  looked  at  the 
gloves,  gave  his  guess,  and  went  out. 

"  By  twelve  o'clock  they  had  all  tried  but  one;  yet 
none  had  given  the  right  guess.  This  pleased  the  Baron, 
who  would  have  been  very  sorry  to  see  his  daughter  led 
away  by  any  of  them.  It  pleased  also  the  daughter, 
who  still  hoped  that  at  the  very  last  minute  Arcanvel 
would  appear. 

"  The  big  dirty  beggar,  who  until  now  had  made  no 
attempt,  reached  the  door  to  enter.  The  servants  barred 
the  way,  and  bade  him  begone. 

"  The  Baron  was  appealed  to.  Being  a  man  of  his 
word,  he  said :  '  I  wish  no  discrimination.  This  contest 
is  open  to  all.  So  take  him  to  my  daughter.' 

"  Perforce,  the  servants  had  to  obey,  and  the  beggar 
went  in,  halting  and  hobbling.  His  ironclad  sabots 
slid  on  the  wax  floor,  and  he  plunged  in  all  directions, 
while  the  servants  were  splitting  their  sides  with  laugh 
ter,  and  the  fine  furniture  was  in  danger.  Finally,  he 
reached  the  boudoir,  and  said  in  a  stentorian  voice: 
'  Show  me  your  gloves,  please,  Miss.' 

"  More  dead  than  alive  for  fear  that  this  one  would 
guess  right,  the  poor  miss  lifted  her  hand  for  the  beggar 
as  she  had  done  for  the  others. 

"  '  Well,'  said  he,  'your  gloves  are  made  of  louse-skin. 
I  have  seen  so  many  in  my  hat.' 


Monsieur  Arcanvel  221 

"  When  it  was  known  that  the  beggar  had  guessed 
right,  all  those  who  had  not  yet  departed  were  for  kicking 
the  fellow  out  of  the  yard ;  and  they  advised  the  Baron 
not  to  give  his  daughter  to  such  a  dirty  lout. 

"  The  Baron  had  a  high  sense  of  honor,  and  he 
replied  to  them :  '  I  cannot  break  my  word  with  this 
man.  I  give  my  consent  to  her  going  with  him.  It 
now  rests  with  her  to  say  what  she  will  do.' 

"  Miss  de  Donan,  fearing  the  Marquis  more  than  the 
beggar,  said :  '  My  word  is  also  given.  I  submit  to  my 
fate.' 

"  Asking  her  future  husband's  permission  to  prepare 
for  her  departure,  she  retired  to  her  room,  hastily  got 
a  few  things  together,  and  came  out  ready  to  go.  In 
a  firm  voice,  with  dry  eyes,  and  a  face  set  with  strong 
resolution,  she  met  her  father  coldly,  bade  him  good-by, 
and  left. 

"  Lisette  hung  to  her  neck  and  tried  to  detain  her, 
but  gently  disengaging  herself,  she  started  off  with  her 
beggar.  They  crossed  the  courtyard  where  as  a  child 
she  had  so  often  played ;  they  traversed  the  garden  in 
which  her  favorite  flowers  bloomed ;  they  hastened 
through  the  park  under  the  shade  of  stately  trees  where 
she  had  dreamed  her  maiden  dreams  and  pledged  her 
love  to  Arcanvel.  At  the  great  iron  gate  she  shook 
hands  with  the  porter,  and,  without  even  turning  round, 
passed  out  into  the  dusty  road,  to  follow  the  destinies  of 
a  man  she  knew  not,  and  to  follow  him  whithersoever  he 
would  choose  to  lead  her. 


222  Tales  of  Languedoc 

"  Put  yourself  in  the  place  of  the  poor  maiden,  and, 
if  you  have  any  heart,  you  will  understand  what  she 
must  have  felt.  For  Arcanvel  she  had  given  up  the 
most  brilliant  marriage  and  all  that  goes  with  it  —  com 
fort,  ease,  luxury, —  and  he  had  basely  chosen  to  stay 
away  from  the  guessing  contest,  and  abandon  her  to  the 
tender  mercies  of  a  dirty  beggar. 

"  To  describe  her  feelings,  or  depict  her  anguish, 
would  require  a  talent  far  superior  to  mine,  and  a  far 
deeper  experience  of  life  than  I  possess. 

"  The  beggar  and  the  bride  walked  for  some  time  in 
silence,  side  by  side.  Presently,  he  asked  her  if  walking 
tired  her  too  much.  She  curtly  replied, '  No,  thanks.' 
They  kept  on  their  march  until  about  sundown,  when 
they  came  to  a  thrashing-floor  with  several  stacks  of 
straw.  They  sat  at  the  foot  of  one  for  some  time  ;  then 
the  beggar  said  :  '  Wait  for  me  here  while  I  go  to  yonder 
farmhouse  to  get  something  to  eat.' 

"  He  went,  and  soon  returned,  carrying  a  small  basket 
in  one  hand.  To  her  surprise,  he  took  out  of  it  a  clean 
napkin,  two  mutton-chops,  still  smoking  hot,  a  bottle  of 
wine,  and  two  crystal  goblets. 

" '  Eat,'  said  he, '  you  must  be  hungry.' 

"  The  conditions  of  her  leaving  home,  and  the  emo 
tion  she  had  gone  through  had  taken  away  her  appetite; 
but  to  oblige  her  courtly  beggar,  she  ate  part  of  a  cutlet, 
drank  a  sip  of  wine,  and  waited  patiently  until  her  com 
panion  had  finished.  He  took  back  the  basket  to  the 


Monsieur  Arcanvel  223 


farmhouse,  and  returned  to  make  preparations  for  the 
night. 

"  Where  and  how  the  night  was  to  be  spent,  was 
a  question  which  filled  her  heart  with  terror.  The  beg 
gar  said  nothing,  but  with  his  two  hands  went  to  work 
and  dug  a  hole  in  the  straw-stack,  deep  and  wide  enough 
for  one  person  to  lie  comfortably  in.  Then  he  pulled 
out  of  his  pack  a  woolen  blanket  and  a  clean,  white, 
sheet.  These  he  carefully  spread  out  on  the  straw  inside 
the  hole. 

" '  You  may  go  in  and  lie  down  and  rest,  while  I  sleep 
outside/  he  said. 

"  She,  who  was  accustomed  to  all  the  comforts  of 
a  bed  of  luxury,  and  to  all  the  little  attentions  of  a  faith 
ful  maid,  crawled  into  the  hole  in  the  stack  at  the  bid 
ding  of  a  tramp ! 

"  She  had  a  few  broken  naps  on  that  never-to-be-for 
gotten  night.  At  the  break  of  dawn,  the  beggar,  who 
was  guarding  near  the  entrance  to  the  hole,  stepped 
away,  and  only  returned  when  Miss  de  Donan  came  out 
with  her  toilet  made.  Taking  out  of  his  bag  a  modest, 
but  clean  breakfast,  he  offered  it  to  his  companion,  who 
'took  a  little  food,  and  set  out  with  him  on  their  journey. 

"  They  walked  without  talking  much  ;  but  the  beggar 
was  very  considerate  and  attentive  to  her  little  wants. 
A  few  days  were  thus  spent  journeying.  Resolved  to 
ask  no  questions,  and  to  bear  her  fate  without  a  mur 
mur,  she  blindly  followed  him  in  a  ceaseless  march. 


224  Tales  of  Languedoc 

"  One  afternoon,  as  they  were  crossing  a  magnificent 
wood,  they  came  upon  some  very  large  flocks  of  sheep, 
ewes  and  lambs.  Under  a  large  tree,  sitting  on  the  soft 
grass,  one  of  the  shepherds  was  playing  his  fife.  He 
drew  from  his  rude  instrument  the  most  melodious 
sounds.  The  distant  woods  echoed  the  simple  melody, 
and  Miss  de  Donan  stopped  to  listen,  delighted.  The 
beggar,  unnoticed  by  her,  was  watching  her  every  motion, 
while  he  stepped  to  the  tree  and  spoke  to  the  shepherd : 
'  You  fellows  must  have  little  trouble  with  your  flocks, 
or  you  would  not  be  piping  away  so  merrily.' 

"'Yes/  said  the  boy;  'my  leaders  are  well  trained. 
I  would  have  little  to  do,  and  should  be  perfectly  happy, 
if  it  were  not  for  that  mean  black  sheep  yonder.  She  is 
as  cunning  as  a  fox,  and  gives  me  no  end  of  trouble. 
So  long  as  my  eye  is  on  her,  she  stays  with  the  flock ; 
but  let  me  turn  my  back,  and  off  she  is  poaching  on  the 
neighboring  wheat-fields.  I  have  been  at  my  master  to 
sell  her;  but  he  won't  hear  to  a  word  of  it,  for  she  was  his 
child's  pet  lamb.' 

" '  What  is  your  master's  name,'  inquired  the  beggar. 

"  '  Don't  you  know  who  my  master  is  ?  Mr.  Arcanvel ! 
All  these  woods  belong  to  him.  All  the  flocks  you  have 
seen  are  his.  He  is  the  richest  man  in  the  country.' 

"At  the  name  of  Arcanvel,  Miss  de  Donan's  eyes 
filled  with  tears. 

"  The  beggar  noticed  it,  and  hastened  to  say :  '  Do  not 
worry ;  you  will  be  very  comfortable  at  the  house.  Let 
us  proceed  on  our  way.' 


Monsieur  Arcanvel  227 

"  On  that  same  day,  they  came  across  large  wheat-fields, 
so  great  in  extent  that  the  eye  could  not  compass  them. 

" '  Do  you  see  those  wheat-fields,'  said  he  to  her.  '  They 
are  Mr.  Arcanvel 's!' 

"  Another  tear  moistened  her  eye,  and  he  again 
hastened  to  say:  'Don't  worry;  you  will  be  very  com 
fortable  at  the  house.  Let  us  proceed  on  our  way.' 

"  Farther  on,  they  passed  by  an  immense  vineyard, 
with  fully  a  hundred  men  at  work  in  it.  Some  of  the 
men  seemed  in  a  very  happy  mood,  for  they  were  singing 
or  whistling ;  others  had  fallen  out  with  their  teams,  and 
were  swearing  at  them ;  and  still  others  were  merely 
intent  on  their  work,  cleaning  the  ploughshares  at  the 
end  of  the  furrows. 

t{  This  animated  scene  seemed  greatly  to  interest  Miss 
de  Donan. 

"  The  beggar  noticed  it,  and  broke  out  again  with : 
'  Do  you  see  this  vineyard  ?  Well,  it  is  the  property  of 
Mr.  Arcanvel.' 

"  A  blush  crimsoned  her  cheek. 

"'Don't  worry,'  for  the  third  time,  said  the  beggar; 
'  you  will  be  very  comfortable  at  the  house.  Let  us  pro 
ceed  on  our  way.' 

"  They  walked  a  while,  and  found  themselves  in  the 
midst  of  an  immense  luxuriant  meadow,  and  they  saw 
many  men  with  scythes  mowing  the  grass,  and  other 
men  carting  away  the  dry  and  fragrant  hay.  "Women 
and  girls  were  raking  after  the  carts  and  bantering  with 


228  Tales  of  Languedoc 

each  other,  singing  gayly  to  the  breeze  of  that  perfect 
May-day,  and  sending  forth  to  the  hills  their  peals  of 
merry  laughter. 

"  This  time,  Miss  de  Donan  was  first  to  speak ;  and, 
addressing  the  beggar,  she  said :  '  Doubtless,  all  these 
meadows  must  belong  to  Mr.  Arcanvel.' 

'"Yes,  yes, —  and  many  more  besides.  But  don't 
worry;  you  will  be  very  comfortable  at  the  house/ 
responded  her  companion. 

"  A   moment    later   a    magnificent    castle    was   seen 
through  the  trees. 

"  Said  the  beggar :  '  Yonder,  behind  the  trees,  is  Mr. 
Arcanvel's  castle.' 

" '  Don't  let  us  go  there,'  piteously  entreated  Miss  de 
Donan. 

"  She  did  not  want  to  meet  the  man  she  fondly  loved, 
just  at  this  juncture,  when  her  emotion  was  so  great, 
and  the  beggar  at  her  side  so  dirty. 

"'  Why  not?'  replied  the  mendicant  quietly.  'He  is 
a  very  charitable  man;  he  will  certainly  give  us  some 
thing  to  eat.  Let  us  go.' 

"  In  her  confusion,  she  found  no  ready  excuse,  and  so, 
willy-nilly,  on  she  was  led  towards  the  castle. 

"From  the  gate  started  many  avenues  and  alleys 
diverging  in  different  directions  through  the  park.  The 
main  one  leading  to  the  castle  was  lined  with  majestic 
sycamores,  hoary  with  age.  On  each  side  of  this  avenue 
were  diverging  alleys  of  pine-trees,  and  the  breeze  playing 


Monsieur   Arcanvel  231 

through  them,  gave  soft,  restful  sounds.  About  the  pine- 
trees  were  a  great  variety  of  shrubs. 

"  They  had  hardly  got  within  the  park  gate,  when 
the  beggar  turned  toward  Miss  de  Donan  and  said, 
pointing  to  a  bush  in  one  of  the  pine  alleys:  '  Te!  rest 
under  yonder  bush  and  wait  for  me.  I  will  be  back  soon.' 

"  She  did  as  she  was  told,  and  waited.  In  about  half 
an  hour  she  heard  the  rumbling  of  carriage-wheels  on 
the  smooth  gravel  road.  At  the  thought  that  it  might 
be  Mr.  Arcanvel  her  poor  heart  began  to  beat  almost  to 
breaking.  She  hid  as  well  as  she  could,  that  she  might 
see  and  not  be  seen. 

"  The  carriage  reached  the  gate,  but,  instead  of  pass 
ing  through,  a  handsomely  dressed  young  man  pulled 
his  fine  iron-gray  team  into  the  pine  alley,  drew  up  rein 
in  front  of  her  bush,  and  quickly  alighted.  It  was  Mr. 
Arcanvel  himself!  She  recognized  him,  and,  overcome 
with  emotion,  fainted.  He  caught  her  in  his  arms, 
bore  her  gently  to  the  carriage,  and  drove  at  once  to  the 
castle. 

"  Miss  de  Donan  came  to  herself  in  a  sumptuously 
furnished  room.  Maids  were  attending,  with  smell 
ing-salts  and  cordials,  and  bathing  her  head  with  a 
restorative. 

"  Beside  her  soft  couch  knelt  Mr.  Arcanvel.  She  gazed 
on  her  surroundings  as  in  a  sweet  dream ;  then  an  ex 
pression  of  pain  crossed  her  features,  and  she  faintly 
asked  for  the  beggar. 


232  Tales  of  Languedoc 

"  Of  beggar  there  was  none,  other  than  Mr.  Arcanvel, 
who,  to  avoid  detection,  had  dressed  himself  in  the 
garments  of  one  of  his  shepherds,  donned  a  wig  and 
beard,  and  made  himself  as  grimy  and  unkempt  as 
possible. 

"  When  the  truth  dawned  upon  her  bewildered  senses, 
she  drew  him  gently  to  her,  clasped  her  white  hands 
about  his  sinewy  neck,  and  whispered  with  charming 
emotion :  '  Oh,  my  love,  my  love,  how  much  anguish 
my  poor  heart  has  suffered !  Oh,  crudest  and  dearest  of 
lovers,  what  have  I  not  endured  for  thy  sake! ' 

" '  Be  calm,  my  love.  Later  I  will  explain  it  all  to 
you,'  said  Arcanvel,  passionately. 

"  The  following  day,  Monsieur  Arcanvel  Senior  set 
out  early  for  the  Baron's.  He  went  with  many  misgiv 
ings,  but  found  a  meeker  gentleman  than  he  expected. 
The  Baron  had  been  harsh  and  unyielding  as  long  as 
his  daughter  was  with  him ;  but,  as  soon  as  she  had  left 
with  the  beggar,  remorse  entered  his  heart.  He  was  not 
willing  to  call  her  back,  but  he  sent  out  spies  who  brought 
him  a  daily  report  of  their  wanderings;  and  when  he 
heard  that  she  was  at  the  castle  of  the  Arcanvels,  a 
great  weight  fell  from  his  shoulders. 

"Hardly  was  Monsieur  Arcanvel  introduced,  when 
the  Baron  exclaimed :  '  I  know  what  brings  you  here. 
You  have  been  shrewder  than  I.  Your  son  has  played 
me  a  smart  trick.  "Well,  I  forgive  him  —  and  her  as 
well.  Now,  sir,  when  shall  we  celebrate  the  wedding?' 


Monsieur  Arcanvel  233 

" '  When  it  may  please  you,  sir,'  replied  the  former. 
'Would  the  twenty-fifth  of  May  be  too  early?'  And 
the  twenty -fifth  —  that  is,  to-morrow  —  was  agreed 
upon." 

"  But  why  did  not  Mr.  Arcanvel  make  himself  known 
sooner  to  Miss  de  Donan  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Why?  Well,  you  are  like  many  people  who  blame 
him  and  charge  him  with  needless  cruelty.  They  say 
that  after  the  Guessing  Contest,  he  ought  to  have  made 
himself  known,  or  at  least  as  soon  as  they  had  left  the 
castle.  Now,  Mr.  Arcanvel  is  a  man  of  tact  and  good  sense. 
To  act  as  he  did  he  must  have  had  good  reason. 

"  It  is  my  notion  that  to  have  made  himself  known 
right  after  the  guessing  match  would  have  got  him  into 
trouble.  The  Baron  would  have  suspected  a  plot,  flown 
into  a  rage  with  his  daughter,  and  most  likely  prevented 
her  from  leaving  the  castle.  If  Arcanvel  had  announced 
himself  after  leaving  the  castle  with  the  girl,  it  might 
have  lessened  the  distance  that  he  meant  to  keep  be 
tween  them  until  he  could  claim  her  before  the  world  as 
his  bride.  Arcanvel  has  never  explained  it  to  any  one 
but  Miss  de  Donan,  and  she  has  forgiven  him.  If  any 
body  wants  to  find  fault  with  him,  let  him  do  better  if 
he  can,  I  say. 

"  As  soon  as  the  wedding-day  was  settled,  invitations 
were  sent  out  to  all  the  villagers,  all  the  strangers,  and 
the  whole  aristocracy  of  the  country.  You  will  see  to 
morrow  the  Cornte  de  Barbusse,  the-  Marquis  de  Garigue- 


234          Tales  of  Languedoc 

basse,  the  Baron  de  Fonseniale,  the  Chevalier  de  Pio 
Grand,  the  Sire  de  St.  Geli,  and  many  others. 

"  The  castle  is  being  repaired  from  cellar  to  garret. 
There  are  perhaps  one  thousand  workmen  at  it.  I 
have  not  seen  the  preparations;  but  everybody  agrees 
in  saying  that  to-morrow  will  be  a  day  never  to  be  for 
gotten.  They  say  that  all  the  fountains  have  been 
stopped,  and  the  reservoirs  cleared  of  moss  and  swept 
perfectly  clean,  because  the  Baron  wants  the  basins  so 
clear  that  the  young  couple  shall  see  their  reflections  in 
them." 

The  innkeeper  ceased  talking,  looked  at  the  clock 
and  said : 

"  It  is  late.  You  must  be  tired.  You  had  better  go 
to  bed  and  sleep  soundly  until  to-morrow." 

He  arose,  shook  me  by  the  hand,  gave  me  a  Roman 
lamp,  and  I  went  to  my  room. 

I  was  not  long  in  going  to  sleep ;  my  day's  tramp 
had  fatigued  me.  And  I  had  taken  only  one  stitch, 
when  the  bourn !  bourn  I  of  the  firing  of  anvils  awoke 
me.  The  sun  was  already  high.  I  hastened  to  dress, 
and  went  down  stairs.  The  game-keeper  of  the  castle 
was  about  the  street  inviting  the  new-comers  to  the  wed 
ding.  He  had  found  two  merchants  of  Toulouse  linen, 
one  merchant  of  St.  Quintin's  porcelain,  one  onion-ven 
der,  a  knife-grinder,  and  Matthiou,  a  ragman.  We  all 
set  out  for  the  castle. 

By  ten  o'clock  everything  was  ready;  the  guests  were 


Monsieur  Arcanvel  235 

all  at  the  castle,  and  the  gay  procession  began  to  form. 
They  were  to  march  through  the  village  to  the  church, 
where  the  ceremony  was  to  be  performed,  and  back 
again  to  the  castle.  A  master  of  ceremonies  arranged 
everything  to  perfection.  Four  maidens  arrayed  in 
white,  carrying  huge  bouquets,  led  the  way;  then  came 
Baron  de  Donan  and  his  daughter,  young  Arcanvel  and 
his  mother,  M.  Arcanvel  and  a  sister  of  the  Baron,  the 
provost,  the  relations  and  guests  in  order  of  rank,  then 
myself  and  a  cousin  of  the  provost,  the  villagers  with 
their  wives,  and  finally  a  lame  and  a  blind  man  wound 
up  the  rear  of  the  long  and  gorgeous  procession. 

Children  in  holiday  attire  lined  the  streets  of  the 
village,  clapping  their  hands  as  we  passed  and  shout 
ing,  "  Long  live  the  bride  and  groom!  "  The  gentlemen 
pelted  the  children  with  dragees  and  bon-bons, —  a  lively 
scramble  began.  Like  a  flock  of  birds,  they  fell  on  the 
dragees,  all  in  a  heap,  were  up  in  a  flash,  and  were  rush 
ing  pell-mell  after  another  handful  scattered  in  another 
direction. 

At  church  not  a  third  of  the  invited  guests  could 
find  room ;  the  rest  found  diversion  outside.  The  Sire 
de  St.  Geli,  an  elderly  bachelor,  who  was  fond  of  girls 
and  jokes,  held  up  a  pretty  cornucopia  filled  with  choice 
candy,  and  adorned  with  ribbons,  and  announced  that 
it  was  the  prize  for  the  girl  who  would  be  bold  enough 
to  kiss  him. 

Laughter  and  cheers  greeted  the  Sire's  proposal,  but 


236  Tales  of  Languedoc 

became  an  uproar  when  a  dozen  maidens  fell  on  the 
bachelor's  neck,  to  his  great  confusion  and  embarrass 
ment. 

When  the  bridesmaids  emerged  from  the  church  they 
were  followed  by  the  newly  married  pair;  the  procession 
reformed  and  began  the  return  march.  The  village 
wives  had  slipped  from  the  ranks,  and  all  through  the 
narrow  village  streets  we  were  showered  with  rose  leaves, 
violets,  and  bouquets  of  fragrant  flowers,  which  fell  on 
our  heads  from  the  upper  windows,  and  covered  the 
ground  at  our  feet. 

When  we  reached  the  castle,  the  bridal  pair  passed 
into  the  grand  reception-room,  and  there,  under  a  canopy 
of  flowers,  received  congratulations  from  everybody, 
great  and  small,  high  and  low;  and  then  all  went  to 
partake  of  the  wedding  feast. 

M.  Arcanvel,  who  never  did  anything  by  half,  had 
an  immense  tent  erected  on  the  lawn  to  supplement  the 
dining-room.  It  was  made  of  a  silken  fabric,  adorned 
with  drapery  and  paintings,  and  the  tables,  spread  with 
the  richest  of  linen  and  china,  fairly  groaned  with  the 
weight  of  the  feast.  To  tell  you  about  all  the  dishes 
served  and  the  wines  drunk  would  take  too  long;  besides, 
I  cannot  remember  half  the  names  on  the  menu;  but  we 
were  four  hours  at  table,  and  at  the  end  of  the  repast 
we  suddenly  discovered  that  the  fountains  in  the  park 
were  playing  jets  of  wine.  A  murmur  of  wonder  and 
admiration  spread  through  all  the  company  as  they  wit- 


Monsieur  Arcanvel  237 

nessed  the  sight.  The  slender  columns  of  red  nectar 
reaching  the  leaves  of  the  trees  and  falling  back  in  drop 
lets  and  spray,  seen  through  the  oblique  rays  of  the 
afternoon  sun,  was  the  most  fairy-like  thing  I  have  ever 
seen. 

A  troop  of  musicians,  ensconced  in  a  clump  of  trees, 
discoursed  sweet  music,  and  the  rising  and  falling  mur 
murs  of  the  waters  flowing  over  the  rocky  river-bed 
added  their  charms  to  the  scene. 

Dancing  followed  the  feast,  and  illuminations  fol 
lowed  the  fading  day.  Through  the  open  house  and 
grounds  we  strolled  in  pairs  and  groups,  viewing  the 
beautiful  sights  and  joining  in  the  merrymaking  until 
a  late  hour,  when,  amidst  shouts  of  blessing  and  praise 
to  the  newly  married  pair  and  to  the  good  squire,  so 
much  beloved  by  his  people,  the  crowd  dispersed. 

Such  a  wedding  was  the  talk  of  the  country  for  months 
afterwards,  and  it  became  proverbial  for  its  splendor  and 
for  the  great  number  of  guests. 

All  of  us  went  away  greatly  delighted,  agreeing  that 
it  was  the  event  of  our  lives.  The  blind  man  said  that 
in  all  his  life  he  had  not  seen  such  a  day.  Matthiou,  the 
rag-peddler,  was  a  little  gay, —  no  wonder!  the  water 
had  been  changed  to  wine, —  went  about  the  village 
street  shouting  his  "  rags,  sacks,  and  bottles  "  at  an  un 
seasonable  hour  of  the  morning.  Going  to  bed  very 
late,  of  course,  I  slept  most  of  the  following  morning, 
breakfasted  as  usual,  and  sauntered  out  for  a  walk. 


238  Tales  of  Languedoc 

There  were  no  portentous  omens,  and  I  hope  to  die  if  I 
had  the  least  idea  of  what  was  about  to  happen. 

Strolling  about  the  streets,  I  happened  to  see  at  a 
window  the  young  lady  who  was  my  partner  at  the  wed 
ding,  and  on  the  doorstep,  my  friend  the  provost.  I  was 
invited  in,  and  the  young  lady  and  I  were  left  to  our 
selves.  We  talked  over  the  wedding  and  of  many  other 
things.  How  it  all  happened,  I  don't  exactly  know,  but 
before  we  knew  it  we  had  planned  our  own  wedding  for 
the  near  future.  I  dined  with  her  and  her  friends  and 
returned  to  my  inn  late  in  the  afternoon. 

The  innkeeper,  who  missed  me  at  dinner,  had  made 
inquiries  and  found  out  that  I  was  at  the  provost's. 

"That  young  fellow  is  going  to  make  the  fatal 
plunge,"  he  said  to  his  guests.  When  I  appeared,  he 
pretended  to  be  surprised;  he  circled  around  me,  raised 
my  arms,  opened  my  vest,  examined  me  carefully,  to  see 
if  there  were  anything  amiss.  I  saw  the  twinkle  in  his 
eye  and  let  him  go  on.  Then,  with  mock  seriousness, 
he  said: 

"  Come  now,  this  is  not  fatal !  I  see  no  blood ;  the 
arrow  only  went  skin  deep.  If  it  had  reached  the  heart 
you  had  been  lost." 

"  Oh,"  I  laughed,  "  people  don't  die  of  that, —  not 
immediately  at  least." 

"  No,"  said  he,  prophetically ;  "but  men  are  like  moths 
that  circle  round  the  flame;  they  draw  closer  and  closer, 
until  they  burn  their  wings." 


Monsieur  Arcanvel  239 

The  day  after  my  betrothal,  I  started  on  iny  way  home. 
It  was  sunrise  in  the  month  of  May.  The  plain  along 
the  river  bank  was  dripping  wet.  On  every  leaf  and 
blade  hung  a  dewdrop  that  turned  into  a  diamond  in 
the  sunlight.  It  looked  as  if  a  shower  of  brillants  had 
fallen.  As  the  sun  rose  higher,  they  disappeared  one 
by  one;  they  went  to  freshen  the  roots  as  they  had 
refreshed  the  foliage.  That  set  me  thinking,  and  from 
thinking  I  fell  to  rhyming  thus: 

Lou  diaman  briia  san  n' estr  'uti!6, 

Se  briian  san  fai'rS  inaT, 

S6n  coumma  1'  estela  qu6  fila, 

Que  fila,  fila,  e"  sen  va'u 

M6  se  penddn  nosta  carriiera, 

S&n  utiles  tout  en  briian, 

Avan  d'  intra  din  la  poussiiera, 

Aouren  fa  un  traval  ben  gran'.* 

With  great  earnestness  and  a  slight  quaver  in  his 
voice,  my  white-haired  grandfather  had  uttered  those 
few  lines  of  poetr}^. 

We  were  all  silent,  and  not  a  sound  could  be  heard 
save  the  crackling  of  the  olive-tree  leaves  in  the  fire 
place  and  the  monotonous  tick  of  the  big  clock  on  the 
landing  of  the  stone  stairs. 

*The  diamonds  useless  shine, 
Man  strives  for  glitter-gains. 
Like  shooting-stars  we  fall  — 
A  flash,  and  that  is  aii. 
So  let  us  shape  our  course 
For  oetter,  not  for  worse, 
And  snow  and  shine  combine 
With  deed  and  work  divine. 


240  Tales  of  Languedoc 

With  uplifted  eyes  we  gazed  on  the  bent  form  and 
benign  face  of  our  story-teller,  who  with  clasped  hands 
pensively  watched  the  ascending  sparks  in  the  huge 
chimney. 

Suddenly  the  old  clock  groaned ;  there  was  a  rum 
bling  of  wheels,  and  the  sound  of  the  bell  majestically 
swelled  in  the  long  corridor  and  ran  from  arch  to  arch 
of  the  vaulted  room.  At  the  same  moment,  the  old 
cock  in  the  barnyard  sent  his  lusty  crowing  out  into  the 
starry  night. 

Those  two  familiar  sounds  drew  my  grandfather  out 
of  his  reverie;  and  with  a  smile  I  would  fain  reproduce, 
and  a  twinkle  from  his  deeply-set  hazel  brown  eyes, 
he  said : 

"  Lou  Gal  caute,  e  moun  vouiiage  finigue."* 

*Thecook  crew  and  my  journey  ended. 


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